


The Defenders, Season Two

by snow_storm27



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-05-13 21:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19259395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snow_storm27/pseuds/snow_storm27
Summary: Four misfits were once united by mere chance.  Now, the tides of fate have united them and their allies once more, to finally put their demons to rest.  These heroes, and Hell's Kitchen, will never be the same.





	1. Eastbound, from Detroit

**Author's Note:**

> In 2015, I fell in love with the characters of Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, and Karen Page, followed shortly by Jessica Jones and her friends. It would be a bit longer before I could grow to love Frank Castle and Luke Cage, and even longer before I could deal with Danny Rand, but I eventually got there with him. The point is, I've loved these characters for years. I identify with most of them and their struggles, but I was disappointed when I saw that the shows were being cancelled by Netflix, all because of Disney's new streaming service. Now, with Jessica Jones's last season out, there's nothing to stop a fan from filling in the last few gaps in the narrative.
> 
> The business relationship between Marvel and Netflix may have crumbled, but that does not mean that the lives and adventures of the Defenders need to end. With any luck, this fic can potentially serve as a sort of neater conclusion to the story arcs set up in the shows. But, we'll see, I'll do my best.

*BANG*

*BANGBANG*

Three gunshots pierced the air. Luke Cage saw three young men, three of his new employees, shot. His tenure as the owner of Harlem's Paradise had been relatively uneventful, until tonight. He ripped off his jacket and tie and leapt out of his office, preparing to take any more shots directly to his unbreakable skin, but no shots came. The club's patrons had already hit the deck as he strolled, as calm as he could, towards the dead bartender. The shot was clean, a headshot, directly through the left eye. Luke had seen this before, but not since he'd been in the army, as Carl Lucas. This was the work of a trained sniper, and a damn good one at that...

The patrons began to murmur. The twinkling sound of shattered glass hitting the floor echoed through the quiet bar. Luke turned to look at where the shots had originated. He called out to his patrons, "Everybody, stay down. I'm going to go take a look around." As he stepped over his guests on the floor, he motioned to the bouncer at the front to come closer. "You see where those shots came from, man?" he whispered.

"No, boss. Must've been across the street though, from the angle it came in at."

"Alright." Luke motioned behind them. "Help these people get out of here, through the back. I don't know what we're dealing with, but I don't want anyone else hurt. Be safe, alright?" His bouncer nodded back to him.

Luke stepped outside and began to look, when he caught the glint of metal, a few buildings to his left. Luke squinted to try to make out what he was seeing...

He heard a shot.

He blinked.

A slug skated across Luke's left eyelid, followed shortly by another across his right. He covered his face and let out a yell, ducking down and making for cover. Another shot quickly ricocheted off his ear, almost entering his ear canal. Whoever was shooting at him, they were really, really good. Luke covered his ear and tumbled back into the bar, and the firing ceased once more. His bouncer had dropped with the rest of the patrons as the firing started back up, but Luke yelled again, "Everybody, it's alright. I'll keep you all safe, just get out of here. It's me they're after, just go!" He rolled his sleeves back up and left the bar, heading into the night air.

He caught the same glint and ran towards it, but no more fire came. Four buildings away, three floors up, Luke found a short note, next to a military-grade sniper rifle. The note read: "There's only enough room for one boss in this town. I may not be able to pierce your flesh, but the same cannot be said for your associates. Every night you choose to operate the nightclub "Harlem's Paradise", more of your employees will die. You get to choose, Mr. Lucas." There was no signature, but the penmanship was impeccable. He might be able to get it analyzed...

Across town, a dark-haired woman knocked back a dark liquor and picked up her cell phone. 57 missed calls, fewer than normal. Jessica Jones figured that it would be a quiet evening for her, so she put her feet up on her desk and grabbed another bottle of bourbon from her cabinet. The nights when nothing happened were the worst.

***

The world was on fire. Everything was fine. His fingers moved dexterously, folding his tie into a perfect windsor knot, just like every other morning. Matthew Murdock sauntered through his apartment, his unhampered senses alerting him to his surroundings. A couch over here, his bar on his left, his suit jacket on the back of a chair. He threw it on. His life had taken some turns in the last few years, but it was finally a good day to be Matt Murdock. He, Foggy, and Karen had managed to open Nelson, Murdock, and Page two weeks previous, and some of their old clients had even come to seek out their services once again. He didn't miss being paid in pies, but it helped them all keep spirits up and hunger at bay while the more financially hefty litigation moved along.

For once, he was the first one in the office. Normally he'd smell the coffee brewing from the street if Foggy or Karen showed before him. He put on a show of checking to find his keys on his person and fumbling with the lock, just a little trick for the passers-by to convince the world at large that yes, he was in fact blind. The office's layout was still somewhat foreign to him, but he knew which door was his at least. Nelson, Murdock, and Page wasn't quite as well-located as Nelson and Murdock, but they would make do.

As he sat down, the door swung open. Loud, heavy footfalls came his way, and a larger, wide-framed, masculine smelling form came with them. "Foggy?" Matt asked.

"You know I hate when you do that, right? When we met, you'd let me sneak up on you, or at least pretend to." Foggy smelled like Irish Spring soap and fine Colombian beans, but there was the vaguest hint of ham and swiss too. Matt could hear his heartbeat, just a little faster than usual.

"Well, Foggy, how would you have responded to learning your college roommate was a blind man who could see anyways?" He already knew the answer. Foggy and Matt had had their fair share of shouting matches about his abilities all-too-recently.

"Well, ha ha, funny guy." Foggy was taking his joke well, at least. "That's not what matters right now. One of our old friends may be on the hook again." Foggy flung a newspaper down on Matt's desk. "It's Luke. His bar was shot up last night. NYPD says three people died in the firefight."

Matt gulped. He'd not heard from Luke since, well, his resurrection. While he had been on the mend, he had managed to avoid the news as much as possible, but apparently Luke was caught in the middle of some gang war with the Jamaicans in Harlem. Matt had been busy during that whole business, or he would have lent a helping hand. But it wasn't like Luke had reached out to him after he'd risen from the dead. Not Danny or Jessica either. Rand Enterprises had sent a lovely bouquet of flowers to his apartment, but whatever had been on the card went unread. Matt was more than happy to leave his misadventure with them behind him, hell, he hadn't even really mourned Stick yet. Matt wasn't a good Catholic, but Catholicism was great at teaching him to bury his feelings.

Matt cleared his throat. "Has he called you?" He could begin to detect that Karen was nearby, but he'd try to finish this conversation with Foggy instead of changing the subject.

"No, Matt, and that's what I'm worried about." A note of genuine fear crept into Foggy's voice. "I know you guys are, like, men of action or whatever, but he really needs help here. That place gets shot up every few weeks, and if he's not careful, he'll be in real deep trouble with someone he can't handle alone."

"Well, if he needs the help, he can come and get it. He's a strong guy, you know, mentally strong. He can take it." Matt didn't want to admit that he had been hoping that New York's other heroes would have helped him fight Fisk a few months back, but he'd bury his disappointment too. The front door opened. "Hey Karen, is that you?"

The familiar sound of heels clacking on hardwood heralded her arrival. "Well, you know me. I'm surprised you're here so early." Her heart beat normally, the sound almost comical compared to Foggy's furious heart rate. "Surely you heard about the shootout in Harlem? I sort of figured that you would have made an appearance there, so to speak."

"I try to stay in the Kitchen. Harlem's a bit of a jog, in my opinion." Matt attempted to sound coy and easygoing, neither of which he was known for.

Karen tapped her foot. "You know we can see through that, right? You're not all that great of a liar. You need to go help him, this feels just a little bit familiar."

"What do you mean?" Matt was surprised that she was so encouraging.

"Yeah, what do you mean?" Foggy was sincere, he had no idea what she could be talking about.

"Foggy, look at the bullet holes. This wasn't a maniac using their whole supply. There's only three gunshots, and they shattered the glass inward." She was pointing at spots Matt could not see on the newspaper. "This was an expert, not just a guy with a gun. I think it might be that guy who was pretending to be Matt."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Karen, there are plenty of expert shooters out there," Foggy said. "Maybe it's that 'Winter Soldier' nutjob that was all over the news a few years ago, didn't he shoot up a chunk of Europe or something?"

"Foggy's right, there's more than a couple of master assassins running around." Matt might not have believed what he was saying, but he said it anyways. "I mean, the Avengers might have moved upstate, but they have some super secret agent marksman guy. Tony Stark could've built him some super gun with expert accuracy or something, maybe he's gunning down criminals now."

Karen crossed her arms. "I can't believe you two. Sure, we'd need more evidence in a courtroom, but I think this is worth looking into. And if you won't, I will." She turned and walked to her office, where she sat and began to type furiously.

"Well, good luck with that!" Foggy yelled as she slammed her door shut. "Between you and me, Matt, I really don't want to run into that guy again. I sort of hoped that saying it wasn't him would calm her nerves a bit, but I think she's just more fired up than ever."

Matt felt a certain swell of pride at the notion of Karen's tenacity. "Well, as long as she has us to keep her safe, I suppose she can run some research for us. Let's get to work, we've got cases to win."

***

At 9 o'clock on the dot, a firm knocking pierced the golden silence at Alias Investigations. Jessica jolted awake, still slumped in her chair with a half-drunk bottle of Grey Goose on the desk in front of her. "Yeah, we're open, come in!" she shouted at the door. A tall, dark man in a suit full of holes walked in. "Ever the gentleman, aren't you Luke?"

"I figured I should come during business hours. I forget that's 9 P.M. for you, Jessica." He slipped out a sly smirk at her. "In any event, I need your help. I'm in, ah, a bit of trouble, and I think a person of your talents would be able to help me with this mess I'm in."

"This about your bar?" Jessica didn't look him in the eye. "You said that you thought you'd be in trouble pretty soon. I take it trouble found you, then. Don't act so surprised, Harlem's Paradise ends up on the local news every other Thursday. I don't know why you insist on holding onto that place, Luke."

Luke puffed out his chest. "Someone's gotta look out for the neighborhood. Ever since Pops died, I've been trying to keep the peace uptown all by myself-"

"Save me the spiel, you're doing a great job protecting exactly no one." Jessica swigged some more liquor. "What do you need man, I'll do what I can, but I'm not doing any of that costumed crimefighter bullshit anymore, I'm just a PI, okay?"

Luke reached into his jacket and withdrew the note. "I was wondering if you could get this handwriting analyzed. Whoever shot up my turf, they left a note. When this stuff happens, I don't usually get handwritten notes. What can you tell me about it?"

Jessica grabbed the note and read it quickly, then again more slowly. "Well, whoever it is, they have excellent grammar..." She trailed off. "Why me, anyways? Why not call up your friend Misty, and have her take a look at it? She has a whole police force, I only have me and Malcolm."

Luke shuffled his feet. "I sort of want to keep the note quiet. I need to present a strong face for the community. If people see Luke Cage giving in to every petty threat that comes his way, Harlem becomes... unstable. I need to provide that stability for my people. Just, I'll pay whatever fees you want me to pay, will you look into it?"

Jessica held the note up to the light and checked for any other hidden writing. It appeared to just be a plain note, in black and white. "Yeah, sure thing. We can talk billing after I figure out who wrote this. You have to imagine that someone writing out a threat wouldn't use their normal handwriting, and yet..." She set the note down. "This appears to just be a normal handwritten note. I'll do some digging."

Luke nodded quickly and began to leave. "Keep looking out for yourself Jessica. We'll be in touch, I'm sure."

"Yeah, whatever." Jessica had already began to search for online records. "Try to keep your head down, Luke, this shooter seems to mean business. Don't let your guard down..." But when she looked up, he had already left.

***

A hectic day at Nelson, Murdock, and Page was nearing its conclusion. It was nearly 7 PM, and the last clients were finally beginning to leave. Foggy let out a long, deep sigh. "Oh man, that was a very full day of billable hours, guys. How about we wrap up and head to the bar?"

Matt let out a chuckle. "Sure thing man, I'll just clean out the old email and I'll be done."

Karen called from her office, "Be right out!" her voice muffled from the thick wooden door. Matt heard her stand and exit, waiting for them in the hallway.

Matt hit a few keys and his computer began to read his emails to him. For a few minutes, it was nothing but pushy clients demanding updates on cases they had only just filed. Matt typically couldn't find it in him to dignify those with a response until something actually happened. The deluge of emails continued, until he came across one, from about 3 PM. It was from Jessica Jones.

The computer read in a dry, robotic voice, "Murdock. We need to talk. I think you have some records I need. See you tonight." Matt paused his inbox. Of all the people he didn't want to deal with, Jessica Jones was pretty high on the list today.

"I don't think I can do the bar tonight, Foggy." Foggy and Karen rushed into his office as he spun his monitor around for them to see.

Matt could hear Foggy's heart begin to race. Karen seemed oddly calm. "Well, Matt," she said, "I hope she'll be quick about it. I think you're about to have a very busy week."

With a twinge of pity, Foggy said, "Please, just be careful. For us, at least."

"Will do, Foggy." Matt folded his cane. "I always am."

***

Curving around Lake Erie, a private jet headed east began to approach New York state in the middle of the night. A chime rang from the intercom, and the pilot spoke. "We're about to begin our approach, please remain seated and buckle in."

A man, dressed modestly with slicked-back black hair groaned. "I always hated planes landing. It's always such a chore, and you can't do anything about it."

His companion, a roughened-up young man in a duster muttered soberly, "I tend to prefer planes that land."

The first man stammered for a second before composing himself. "Danny, you know I didn't mean it like that."

Danny smiled sadly. "I understand Ward. Things are different now, at least. And maybe I'm not The Iron Fist anymore, but I can at least be An Iron Fist. Or an Iron Gun, or whatever." He unholstered one of his new chi-channeling revolvers. It was no replacement for the Fist, but he had every confidence in Colleen's ability to protect New York, just like he'd sworn to Matt that he'd do. "Anyway, I wonder what we've missed while we've been gone. Can we put on the news?"

Ward strapped himself into his seat and flipped on the television. They had been gone several months, surely something interesting would have happened in the interim. The news channel fired up.

"-coming up after these commercials, is there a new lead on the shooting at Harlem's Paradise? Owner and local hero Luke Cage will give his harrowing retelling of the tragic shooting from last night."

"Ward, pause it!" Danny jumped to his feet.

"Woah, down buddy. We can't land if you're on your feet, sit down." Danny sat down grudgingly, swishing his long coat for added effect. "Danny, why did you have me pause on some guy with a busted dive bar?"

"Because," Danny said, "that's not just some guy, that's Luke Cage. And I know what we're going to do as soon as we get off this plane."

Wards eyes widened with terror. "No. No no no no no, we are not going to do any of your ridiculous superheroics. You're not the Iron Fist anymore, you're just a dude with a gun, you know, like most people in Harlem!"

"That's not very kind of you to say, Ward." Danny returned his gun to its holster on his side. "Besides, we're not going to do it alone. I believe that things are going to go perfectly."

Ward mockingly said, "Blah, blah, blah. Spare me the power of positive thinking, Danny. I'm going to listen to some music while we land, help me think happy thoughts or whatever." He put in one earbud. "Let me know when we hit the ground, yeah?" And the other bud went in.

Danny's smile lasted until Ward turned his back on him. He sat forward in his seat, deadly serious. He was truly afraid that, without the Fist, he would truly not be enough. And if this problem became large enough to involve the rest of their old friends, then he'd really be out of luck. Quietly, to himself, Danny whispered, "Luke... What mess have you gotten us into?"


	2. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the shooting at Harlem's Paradise, our heroes are left to ponder: Who did it? And who can help them now?

The gravel clattered as something landed behind him. Matt Murdock stood atop his new office building, dressed in the somewhat new garb of the vigilante Daredevil. His eyes and hair covered by a thick black cloth and his body covered in dark athletic gear, he tilted his head to hear the figure behind him move closer. Heavy combat boots thudded against the ground, the scent of alcohol lingered in the air, and the faint rustling of a cotton scarf against a leather coat filled Matt's senses. "Ms. Jones. It's been a while."

Jessica scowled and continued marching closer to him before grabbing his arm and spinning him around. She muttered into his ear, "What, do you think I wasn't followed? Don't just announce that I'm here, Matt." She looked him up and down. "What, no catholic pajamas?"

"You must not watch much news, I don't need them anymore." Matt stood up straighter and folded his arms. "And yeah, you weren't followed. I've heard your stomping for the last four blocks, no one was behind you. Besides, most people are in bed at three thirty in the morning." He paused, then wondered why he would even expect the barest thanks from her. "You're welcome. What do you want, anyway?"

Jessica pulled out a scrap of paper from her jacket. "I need access to your records. I need to know if the handwriting on this paper matches someone else's handwriting."

Matt scowled and pointed his face at hers. He couldn't see her face, but he could imagine it would get the point across. "You know I can't read that, Jessica. My senses are pretty good, but I can't literally see. Besides, I'm an attorney, most of our records are digital or printed. I don't know why you think I'd-"

Jessica covered his mouth. "Yeah, whatever. I don't need Matt's records, I need anything you picked up while you've been busting heads dressed like an Underarmor model. I think you've met the person who shot up Luke's bar." She felt him clench his jaw under her fingers. "And apparently so do you..." She released his face.

He turned and walked to the edge of the building, resting his hands on the barrier around the roof. "You sound just like Karen..." He chuckled at the thought and doubt either would appreciate the comparison. "I met a guy, yeah. Benjamin Poindexter, goes by 'Dex'. Expert marksman, can turn about anything into a projectile. And the last I heard he was dragged off to a psych ward. I felt a little bad for him at the end."

"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure that was the end. He was shooting up Luke real good yesterday."

"Neither of you can possibly know it was him. There's plenty of crazy people with guns around."

Jessica strode over and slammed down on the concrete barrier, shattering off a chunk at their feet. "Why are you trying to hide the fact that the guy who stole your suit and kicked your ass is back on the streets? I watch more news than you give me credit for, Murdock. You're just scared because you can't beat him, is that it?"

Matt scowled. "I'm not scared of him, Jones. He's a madman with a gun, I've fought plenty like him before. I'll do it again." He again turned to try to get away from the woman. "Thanks for the help, by the way. I really could have used your help dealing with him and Fisk while I was still trying to get back on my feet, obviously you felt moved to help."

"Is that what this is about, Murdock? Your hurt feelings over an abject stranger not running to your defense six months ago?" Jessica huffed and sat firmly on the ledge. "I don't remember you helping me with any of my problems since then. You may not know this, but my sister is in prison now, floating in the ocean. Where were you when I needed you, Murdock?"

Matt rounded on her. "This isn't about my hurt feelings, Jessica. Sorry about your adopted sister, I'll gladly take her on as a client and secure her release from the Raft as soon as this mess is taken care of." He heard Jessica's heart beat a little faster at that. "Even so, you're right. Poindexter is good at what he does. Better, maybe, than I am. I couldn't beat him alone and Wilson Fisk broke his spine. I sort of doubt that he could come back from that so quickly, unless some miracle surgeon is on the loose."

"There might be..." Jessica stood and began to pace. "My sister Trish got... abilities recently. It's what landed her in the Raft. She got them from the same doctor who gave me my abilities as a teenager. He's dead now, but he certainly had assistants, you know, people he got the drugs from. He worked with a group called IGH, they experimented on me, they experimented on a guy Trish dated, is it that far-fetched that they snagged another loner in New York and made him more deadly?" She turned and Murdock was approaching the stairs down into the building. "Where the hell are you going?"

He gestured for her to follow, and she did. Once the door was closed behind them, he started speaking. "Someone's loitering in front of the building. Keep your voice down. I don't want this to end in a fight." Jessica nodded. They moved down into the building.

***

"Man, it feels real good to get to stretch your legs a bit!"

"If you had kept up your yoga regimen, you wouldn't be so stiff, Ward."

"Oh, blah blah blah, next you'll be insisting I eat kale." Ward clapped Danny on the back. "Well, we're back in the city again. Where do you want to head first?"

"I need to see Colleen, she'll know what's been going on." Danny adjusted his coat and began to jog for the airport, desperate to get back into the city.

Ward rolled his eyes and ran after him. "Bit of a late night for a booty-call, Danny, are you sure it can't wait until morning? Besides, what's the worst that could happen, you missing a couple hours of late night conversation?"

"This isn't a booty-call. I need to know that my city is safe. I have a promise to keep." Danny turned and kept going. He missed Ward's comical silent impression of him, sarcastically mouthing "my city" while flapping his hands around. Ward, upon recognizing that he was serious, tried his best to keep up.

Across town, an older man walked down the street, hiding his cargo inside the seams of his coat. Suddenly, a woman with a glowing sword leapt from the shadows and pinned him to the ground. "Hey old timer, what do you have there?" The Immortal Iron Fist channeled her chi into her ancestral blade, poking a hole in the coat for a fine white powder to pour out of. Colleen Wing had taken to her new ability with some aplomb, and Chinatown was far safer for it. In the months since Danny had left, she, sometimes with the assistance of Misty Knight, had cleaned up the streets, at least a little bit. This was just another day, just another bust of just another criminal. Or, at least he was, until she heard the gunshots.

She looked down and the old man lay bleeding, a shot having seemingly ricocheted off the ground and through his ear, another having cut directly through both of his Achilles' tendons. The shots were impossible, plain and simple. She recoiled, brandishing her blade as a light against the darkness. But no other shots came. She stood alone in the dark, unflinching, for a minute, two minutes, maybe even three minutes until she knew she was alone. She sheathed her blade and returned her chi to normal, causing her hand to dim to nothing. She knelt down and searched the dead man's pockets. She found a wad of cash wrapped in a rubber band, standard, a gun that wasn't fully loaded, troubling but pretty normal, a burner phone with no contacts or history, again pretty normal, and a single, handwritten note. The handwriting was poor. She couldn't tell really what it said, and it seemed to be in some kind of code. There were definitely letters missing, if nothing else. She pulled out her phone and texted Misty with their customary, "You up?" She gave it a few moments before sending another message, "Met a guy, you should come meet him."

As if on cue, she detected motion on the edge of her vision. A man's voice rang through the silence, "Colleen?" She quickly drew her sword and lit it up to ward against whoever was approaching. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, but it almost looked like... another glowing fist, wrapped around... something? Maybe a gun? She struck a defensive pose. "Colleen, hey it's me, Danny." And it was. "I love the whole glowing-sword thing, you've really made it your own. I managed to find something cool too, check it out." And Danny fired a single, glowing shot into the air, a beam of brilliant light, illuminating the night sky. "It's kind of a long story, but Ward and I were in Japan, and we were on the lookout for this guy, Randall, and we-" Before he could finish, Colleen held him in a tight embrace, pinning both his arms to his sides.

"I've missed you, Danny." And she squeezed harder, until he gasped for breath.

"I missed you too Colleen." He gestured to his gun, and another in a holster. "I'm not quite the Iron Fist, but I do have some fun tricks back. The sword and fist suit you better though." He gave her a smile.

"Don't be gone for so long next time. Things are hard enough around here with you, we kind of need you around." Colleen put her sword away and sat down on the curb.

Danny joined her on the ground. "Who's 'we'?"

***

"For the last time, I promise you, I'm doing my best!" Luke ran a hand over his scalp in frustration. Harlem's Paradise was still a complete mess, although he and his staff had done their best to sweep up all the glass. He sat in his office alone most of the day, until a detective showed up on his door right when he was supposed to open.

Misty fired back. "Luke, if this is your best, you have really fallen on hard times. You were Harlem's hero! Now you're just some thug in a suit." She cut him off before he could object. "Don't you start with me, you know that men in suits have hurt Harlem more than anyone dressed like you used to." She gestured out at the shot-up bar. "You should have called."

"I knew if I called, you wouldn't listen. Just like you're doing now. I'm trying to keep the people safe, give them a respectable job, give people a place to be that isn't out there dealing drugs!"

"Luke, you are more naive than I gave you credit for if you don't think that people are dealing drugs right here!" Misty looked out the window, into the bar. "If I brought the dogs in here, are you telling me they wouldn't find anything, nothing at all?"

"I guarantee it." Luke crossed his arms and sat back in his seat. "I'm doing the right thing, I need this place to stay open, to be a safe haven, like Pop's used to be."

"Pops died, Luke. Pops died years ago, now." Misty looked him dead in the face. "And you're a fool to think you, or anyone, could replace him."

"So what, Harlem is doomed? We can't just accept that things can never get better."

"I never said that Luke, you just need to look at the bigger picture. You did a lot of good as the hero of Harlem. But setting yourself up as some kind of, what, new age gang leader? This is a terrible idea. You need to be more legitimate, or else you'll just be as bad as what you're trying to replace." Misty folded her robotic arm over her real arm, guarding herself against the inevitable blow-back.

"Legitimate? What, like you?" Luke stood up. "It isn't your place to tell me what I 'need' to do. I am handling this, I didn't want to involve you in my problems, Misty. You just stay in your own lane, and I will stay in mine."

"Sweeping some glass with your boys," she said the word disdainfully, "is not enough to convince me you're handling it. Unless you're doing something off the record, then I need to know about it, right now."

Luke grimaced. He wasn't planning on telling anyone about Jessica, especially not Misty, given how their last meetings had gone... He stood resolute.

"Luke, tell me, or I bring in the dogs, and we see how 'clean' you've been keeping Harlem." Luke could hear in her voice how much she dreaded what she would find. She was giving him this one chance, to speak up, or face the consequences.

Misty's phone buzzed in her pocket, but she did not reach for it, instead staring directly at him, arms still crossed. "I have reached out to a private investigator. I will let you know when I hear back from them."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, don't tell me you went to Jessica Jones."

"She is a very good detective," Luke said defensively.

"What she is, is a criminal." Misty did not look surprised. "Do you know how long her rap sheet is? It's not a rap sheet, it's a rap book. She has her own filing cabinet all for herself at the station."

"We have worked very well together in the past, Misty."

"I'm sure you have, Luke. I'm sure you two have done great work together over 'coffee'." Luke was hurt by that accusation, accurate though it may be.

"Did you forget when we all teamed up and saved Manhattan from those ninjas, like, a year ago? You didn't seem to have problems with her then." Luke heard Misty's phone buzz again. She rolled her eyes at Luke and checked her texts. Luke saw her eyebrows knit together.

"Yeah, keep explaining to me why I should give a shit about your criminal PI friend. Want to talk in the squad car, I have to get over to Chinatown." Misty grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and made for the door.

"Chinatown? Why are we going to Chinatown?" Luke threw on his coat and walked for the door behind her.

In Chinatown, Colleen and Danny sat and caught up for what felt like hours, until the sky began to lighten on the farthest horizon. "Danny, that sounds incredible!" Colleen sat in amazement at his story. "I wish I could have been there to see all that. Your life has only gotten more interesting lately."

"Yeah, it's a real shame you couldn't be there," Danny said. "I wish I could have shared that with you, but there was just too much going on, I'm sure things here at home haven't been smooth sailing for you. What's more important is that I'm back, and Ward's back too, and I was sort of hoping we could help out with something."

"We? I thought you were here to hit the mean streets with me again?"

"Well, I am, but I think there's a problem uptown..." Danny saw a police car round the corner and slowly pull up alongside them and the now-cold body. The window rolled down.

A smooth, rich voice emerged from the car. "Danny? I thought you were in Japan." The doors opened up, and Luke Cage stood before them, in a crisp, pressed suit. Misty Knight came out the other side and crouched next to the body.

Danny approached Luke and looked up to him before throwing his arms around him. Luke, seeming somewhat abashed, gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "You look good, Luke. What's with the suit?"

"Long story." Luke shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm a businessman now."

"Can it, you two, we've got more important things to do." Misty began searching the body's pockets as Colleen laid out what she had found. "I'm going to have to call the station on this one, we can't do this alone."

Colleen let out a concerned sigh. "Is there no way to keep the circle small on this one? I'd rather we just leave this problem to us."

Misty grunted before pointing at Luke. "He's already broken your circle, Colleen."

Colleen stared at him. "Who is so important that they need to know about this?"

***

"Shut up Murdock, we just need to whack him."

"I'm not just whacking some loiterer, Jessica." Matt still sensed the loiterer. He smelled like steel and sweat, like a factory worker. Matt smelled him on the roof, and he was still able to smell him now. "What if he fights back, or he's a policeman? I don't want to bump up against the cops."

"That makes one of us. I've handled worse." Jessica searched through Matt's office, shuffling his papers and looking at his laptop. "God, you don't keep anything in here..."

"Well, if it's written down, I can't read it, Jessica. All I have in my office is my degree and the stuff the court says I have to keep." He tapped his foot. "All my records are on my computer, maybe it'd be an image on there. Or you could check Foggy's office."

"What about Page?" Jessica had already clicked through his pictures. There weren't many. "You added a Page to your sign, who's Page?"

"She is none of your business." Mostly Matt just didn't want a stranger going through Karen's stuff. He didn't expect her to be on board with strange vigilantes going through her business.

"It's a she? Cool. It's always been a bit of a sausage-fest with you." She went out into the hallway and went into Foggy's office. Matt followed. She called out to him as she began to go through the stacks of paper documents. "So, what, she your girlfriend? Or are you dating the bigger guy, he seems into you."

Matt did not know what to say. He stammered indignantly. "What I do with my time is no concern of yours. Are you finding what you need, or not?"

"I'm an investigator, I investigate people, it's what I do. Don't pretend you don't do it too, lie detector boy." Matt stood flabbergasted. "Aha! Found it!"

"Keep your voice down, the guy's still outside..." Matt walked over to Jessica. "Well, what is it, what did you come here for that was so important?"

Jessica held the pieces of paper next to each other before seemingly nodding. "Well, Murdock, the writing on this piece of paper," she wiggled a piece, "and this piece of paper," she wiggled the other, "are about the same. And this second piece here, it has a name on it. You said earlier that you've met Wilson Fisk?" Matt's heart sank. "I'm pretty sure he's behind this attack. He's making another move, in Harlem."

Matt slumped over in Foggy's chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose under his mask. "God..." Could he not get a single moment of peace? Prison would not hold Fisk, and now Matt felt he'd have to intervene, again, to fight Fisk and Poindexter, again.

"Sounds like the guy out front is moving, Matt." Matt listened, and heavy footfalls began to move down the steps, away from the door. Matt thought he heard a gun cock.

"Well, we need to deal with him, then. You got any ideas?"

Jessica cracked her knuckles. "Wouldn't be the first guy I hit really hard." She moved for the front door and breathed deeply.

"Jessica, you're not bulletproof, and I think he has a gun." Matt ran up and joined her, adjusting his mask.

"Yeah, whatever." Jessica flung open the door and jumped, knocking the man flat on his back and punching him across the face. She drew blood. "What the hell do you want, you weirdo?" she yelled into his face.

The man called out in a rough, droll voice, "Long time, no see, Red. I like the new office, took half the night to find. Now, can you get your girlfriend off of me, we need to have a little chat."


	3. Black Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heroes of New York have assembled, for the first time in years. But will they be able to cooperate for long enough to resolve their problems, or will they fall prey to their own petty squabbling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the rather long delay, my laptop has been in the shop for a while. But, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Thank you for your patience!

"So you did what after I left?"

"We saved New York from ninjas, yeah. And Murdock over there died."

"Only for a little while! I didn't actually die either, I just was underground for a bit."

Frank Castle sat and drank his hot, black coffee across from a rude girl named Jessica Jones. His old lawyer, Matt Murdock, sat next to her. Frank had been out of New York for about a year now, under the assumed name of Pete Castiglione. He'd quelled his demons, for a while, avenged his family's deaths. But now, he knew he was needed in the city.

"So Red, what happened after you died?" He took a sip.

Matt adjusted his red glasses, obscuring his blind eyes. "Well, I got better. Then I fought Wilson Fisk, I think you're familiar with him."

"Yeah, we met." Frank did not enjoy recalling his time in prison, or the bald-headed thug who ran the place. He'd killed all his goons bare-handed, and Frank doubted that Fisk would be willing to let that go.

The pause grew longer as Frank took another sip.

Jessica began to speak. "Mr. Castle, what are you doing back in New York? You've done a great job staying out of the news, but there's been some rather brutal stories coming out of the Midwest with your fingerprints all over them."

Frank stared at her for a long moment. Her outfit looked scuffed up, probably as a result of knocking him to the ground this morning. He methodically looked her over. She looked like just about anyone else, so he had no idea how she'd managed to hit him with so much force earlier. Frank was used to getting hurt, but she packed more punch than she let on. He pondered other seemingly supernatural events that he'd been ignoring. Certainly the Avengers existed, but she was not one of them unless some weird things had happened lately. Frank vaguely remembered some international dust-up they'd had, what, two years ago? Maybe she was just some vigilante. Maybe she'd gotten hold of some weird tech to generate more power. He was no expert, he was content to just know that she could hit hard. Then again, as his eyes settled at looking deep into hers, she had a certain edge to her. She was staring him down with the same intensity, no doubt pondering his own history and 'abilities', if she believed in that kind of thing. He had never heard of her, and yet she had heard of him. He couldn't avoid being in the news, he had made a bit of a stink the last time he was in town. But, what she said had rattled him, she had been researching him. Was she a detective? She didn't seem to have a badge, so she probably wasn't police. She was wearing a lot of layers, and with her seeming powers, she probably needs protection to she doesn't break her own skin. Frank cast his eyes to look at Matt, his brow furrowed as he was focusing on whatever he was focusing on.

The pause had drawn on rather long. Frank broke the silence. "Red, what's her deal?"

Matt smiled and raised his eyebrows. "You're welcome to ask her yourself, Frank."

Frank rolled his eyes over to Jessica. "Miss Jones, what is it that you do? Have you been watching me?"

She clasped her hands together in front of her face. "Mr. Castle, I don't have to be watching you to see the trail of blood you've left in your wake. Your trial put you in the spotlight, so it's not been hard to follow the stories that sound like you."

"You some kind of detective?"

"I'm a private investigator, Alias Investigations." She slid him her card. He did not pick it up.

"So you have been watching me." Frank drank a bit more coffee.

"Mister Castle," Jessica began, her eyes checking the card she had left on the table, "what are you doing back in New York? You've been gone for months, what the hell are you doing here, now?"

She was good. Frank could tell she knew how to get to the meat of the matter.

"Well, Miss Jones, I got shot. I figured that I was out of my depth. Heard a story on the radio about Red fighting some crazy guy, and Fisk was out of jail. Figured that the guy who shot me must have been the same guy you dealt with." Frank pulled down the collar on his black shirt and revealed a fresh scar on top of his shoulder.

Jessica reached out and touched the scar. He didn't flinch. "So what was different about this shot that made you think it was Poindexter?"

"I heard the gunshot. It was very far away. And it was below me." He saw Matt raise his eyebrows again. "The shot banked off a street lamp half a block away, and it almost went into my neck. I'll tell you, this wasn't just some chump with a gun. I think it's this Poindexter kid you had to beat up."

Matt furrowed his brow. "I think you might be onto something... The only question I have is how he's back in fighting shape. Fisk broke his spine in half, last I saw he would be in a hospital bed for the rest of his life. Jessica and I think it might have to do with a drug company that she's had to deal with in the past, but someone must have paid for his recovery. Someone else is footing his bill."

"Mr. Castle, what do you want us to do about it? We're just a detective and a lawyer these days, we've got our own problems." Jessica crossed her arms and sat back. "I'm done with the heroics, I just want to hold down a job."

Frank saw Matt fidget with his cane, folded up in his right hand. "Red, I don't think you've hung up the pajamas like she thinks you have."

Matt scowled into the air. "I don't do what I used to do. But, if it is who you say it is, I'll take your case. I can help you out and find out if it really was Poindexter. Then we can put this whole business behind us. Jessica, you're a detective, at least help him out, and we'll put this to rest. We'll never have to talk again." He extended a hand in her direction for a handshake. She swatted it away.

"No heroics." Frank heard a phone buzz as Jessica went to check it. "But, I already have a case. I think they might be related though. My client says he's here, and he says he's brought some friends of ours." She rolled her eyes. "I wish he could have warned us earlier, but..."

Frank stood up. "No, I am not joining some vigilante team of dumbasses just to take out one guy, I'm not doing it. I'll do it myself." He began to move towards the door. Just then, the door to their diner swung open, and Frank was met with a big man in a big suit, black, bald, and bearded.

"Hey man, let's sit down for a second. I haven't had a chance to try out their coffee yet." The man's hand wrapped around Frank's injured shoulder, with a grip like iron. "Let's talk."

***

Luke motioned for Danny to help him move some chairs. Just a booth wouldn't be enough for the party of - he did a headcount - seven that they had accumulated. He apologized to their waitress and sat down, ordering a single cup of coffee for himself. The waitress took the new arrivals' orders with the usual low level of enthusiasm that diner waitresses often had in Luke's experience, and she wandered back to the kitchen to prepare the morning offerings.

"Hey Matt, you look great! How's life been treating you?" Danny squeezed uncomfortably into the booth next to Matt as he pulled up a chair for Colleen. "I did my best, Colleen and I have been keeping New York safe, isn't that right?"

Colleen looked over to Matt. Luke remembered that he had died the last time they met. He supposed that it was none of his business. As it was, Matt seemed to be in generally good health, for a dead man.

"Yeah, thanks." Matt shifted uncomfortably closer to Jessica. "Although you probably heard that I've had to come out of, uh, retirement. I'm glad you guys are on the job, I suppose." His eyes seemed to move, behind his dark red lenses. "Are you carrying a gun now?"

"Yeah, I got them overseas," Danny said as he pulled open his leather coat to show his pistols. "They let me channel my chi into a concentrated bullet of force, kind of like the Iron Fist used to, but Colleen is the Iron Fist now, she uses a sword instead, yeah, you guys have really missed a few things," Danny's eyes seemed to scan the table until they found the newcomer that Luke had stopped, "My name's Danny Rand, by the way, former Immortal Iron Fist. What's your name?"

"Yeah, no, I'm leaving, this is bullshit." The man went to leave again, but Luke, next to his booth, sat him back down.

"You're not leaving until we're all on the same page, man, sit back down." Luke motioned back to his seat. The man sat, but glared at Danny. "Why don't we all go around the table and share who we are, and what we've been up to since we last talked? Just like kindergarten all over again. You start, stranger." Luke cast a dark look in the direction of the man he hadn't met.

The man seemed to look into Luke's soul, almost as if he were studying him. The pause wore on rather long. "Yeah no, I'm not doing that."

Matt interjected. "My name's Matt Murdock. Maybe you've heard of me." He looked around the table, pausing to note the presence of Misty. "I run a law firm across town. I had an... accident the last time I met you. I was presumed dead, but I'm fine. I helped with the trial of the People v. Frank Castle a while back, and the Wilson Fisk trials before then. Now I'm just a normal attorney again."

Misty looked long and hard at him. "And you were Daredevil, weren't you?" She raised an eyebrow at him. Matt looked a little aghast and began to speak. "Don't worry, Mr. Murdock, I am in no place to judge or make any remarks to anyone. My name is Misty Knight, and I am a police detective. But, the last time I helped out you weirdos, I got my arm cut off by a ninja. Now I have this cyborg arm, and I've been helping Colleen under the table with some of her vigilante stuff. And I've been investigating the shooting at Luke's bar." She shot him a dirty look. He looked down.

"I guess that means I should go next. My name is Luke Cage. I'm an ex-marine." He saw the stranger's eyes flick up from his coffee in his direction at that. "You probably all know this, but I have bulletproof skin, the result of some weird science experiments conducted on me. And since I saw you all last, I worked a little with Danny, I've tried my best to keep Harlem safe when a Jamaican gang came to town, and now I'm the owner of Harlem's Paradise. I'm trying to reform its image a little bit." He felt Misty's gaze hot on him as he finished. Her tirade last night was still fresh in his mind.

Danny spoke up next. "I'm Danny Rand, owner of Rand Industries and the former holder of the Immortal Iron Fist."

"Here we go..." The stranger rolled his eyes.

Danny sighed indignantly. "Why is it that billionaires can fly around in metal suits, gods can fall from the sky, and giant green monsters can live a few blocks away in Manhattan, but I use the words 'Iron Fist' and everyone tells me it can't happen? Huh, tell me that." Luke just rolled his eyes as he saw the rest of the table shuffle shyly. "Thank you. Like I was saying, I was the Iron Fist. I got my powers stolen due to an ancient ritual thanks to my best-friend-turned-enemy, and now the powers of the Iron Fist belong to Colleen. But, I traveled the world, honing my chi, and now I have inherited the powers of the previous Iron Fist, a man named Orson Randall." He gestured to his guns under his coat. "Thanks to these, I can channel my chi into a powerful blast. It's not quite as good as the fist, but it gets the job done."

"You could have just said you had magic guns, kid." The stranger stared at Danny, studying him as he had done to Luke moments before. "Glad we're on the same page now." The table leaned in, as if to hear his story next. When the silence became too deafening, Colleen spoke.

"I am the Immortal Iron Fist. My name is Colleen Wing. Well, as you guys might know, Matt asked Danny to defend New York in his absence, and in Danny's absence, I've been doing it, with Misty's help. Now I have the powers of the Iron Fist, which makes things easier." She bared a draconic tattoo on her forearm. "I usually use a sword, but I left it in Misty's trunk so we don't cause a scene."

"I have everyone's orders, if you guys are ready?" The waitress had returned. She was eyeing them all with wild suspicion, and it was not hard to see why. Seven very odd-looking individuals, each dressed for a different occasion, huddled around a young woman's arm tattoo were causing a small scene in her diner. "I have, uh, a black coffee for you sir," Luke grabbed his drink and gave her a nod, "two sugars, one cream, for you ma'am," Misty took her drink with a pleasant smile, which dropped as soon as she turned back around, "water, with lemon," Colleen spun around and took it with her bared arm, with a quiet smile, "and finally, a hot tea for you," and Danny took his beverage gingerly with a wide, toothy grin. "So, uh, will any of you be ordering any food, or is it just going to be a liquid breakfast?"

Danny opened his mouth to order, but Colleen quickly cut him off. "No, thank you, we'll be okay." She cast him an intense look.

"Great..." The waitress looked ever more bewildered. "How will you all be splitting the checks? Or is it all, um, one party?"

"I'll cover it!" Danny stared at Matt, who merely tilted his ear in his direction. They had both just said the same thing on top of each other. Luke noted that Jessica and the stranger exchanged glances at that. The man merely shrugged and took a heavy swig of his coffee, seemingly finishing it. Matt said, "No, I will cover it. Thank you so much, sorry for all the trouble." The waitress turned and left to get the check. "Alright, Mr. Castiglione, would you like to share with the class? Tell us a little about yourself, man." Luke knew Matt couldn't see, but if looks could kill, this Castiglione guy would be toast.

"I'll tell when she does, not before." He pointed to Jessica, sitting innocuously in the corner of the booth, as if trying to hide behind Matt.

"I'm Jessica Jones. You all already know me." She took out a small, opaque bottle from her coat and poured it into her coffee before drinking it. "You already know I'm a private investigator. I'm pretty strong. Luke asked me to investigate the shooting at his bar, so I invited him to come and hash things out with this guy, who said he might know something. I didn't expect him to bring the whole neighborhood..."

"I just brought some concerned citizens who I thought would be able to help out." Luke realized how defensive he sounded. "Besides, these people were already on the same trail that the rest of us were. Why not just bring all our heads together on this one?"

"I guess I see your point." Jessica let out a loud sigh, exasperated, Luke could tell. "But I don't have to like it. As far as what I've been doing, not much. Met my mom. My sister killed my mom. Sister's in jail now. Those are unrelated, actually. Figured I'd hire Murdock for the defense, they threw her in the Raft, so I figured I'd use a lawyer I know with a bleeding heart. And Hogarth said her plate's full and there's too many problems with jurisdiction to even bother."

Matt piped up. "Oh yeah, the Raft is a horrible abuse of human rights. I've handled high profile cases before, I'll do all I can." This was the first time Luke had seen him so chipper. He supposed Matt had been just out of his element before, but he seemed to know what he was about.

"Alright, Castiglione," Luke began, "you've heard all of us say our piece. Now just who are you? And how are you involved in all this mess?"

The man seemed to stare at Misty, long and deep as he had with the rest of them. "My name is Frank Castle." Luke felt Misty tense up. "According to the U.S. government, my name is Pete Castiglione. But the newspapers like to call me 'The Punisher' these days, which is a little Saturday-Morning-Cartoons for my taste. I'm a Marine." Luke straightened his back. He hadn't been among other servicemen in some time. "A few years back, my wife and daughter were killed in front of me, the government covered it up. I helped clean up after the shit job they did. And I've been driving across the country, cleaning up organized crime along the way. But," and he pulled down his collar to reveal a pretty fresh-looking gunshot scar, "I got tagged by a real miraculous shot a few weeks back. I remembered hearing that Red over there," he gestured to Matt, who grimaced in response, "fought some kid with impossible aim a few months ago in New York. Figured he'd have some leads. But I wasn't expecting to join some band of do-gooders, so I think I'll be leaving now." Castle stood to leave.

"What unit you in?" Luke asked.

"Cerberus Squad, Scout Sniper." Frank gave him the briefest of nods. "And you?"

"Force Recon. But it was a while ago." Luke nodded in return. He saw a small smile appear on Castle's face.

"Semper Fi." Frank sat back down.

"Semper Fi." Luke saw his mind had been changed.

"Alright, here's what we've got," Frank said. "We're thinking I got shot by the same kid Murdock fought. And it sounds like he shot up your bar, Cage. But Murdock says that kid got crippled last they fought, so someone's been paying to get him patched up. Jones says there's a superdrug company that she's been tangling with, and they might have something to do with this. How do the wonder twins over there fit in with all this?" He gestured to Danny and Colleen.

Danny spoke. "I made a solemn vow-"

"Yeah, never mind," Frank swatted his hand, as if to quiet him. He pointed to Colleen. "What's your take on this?"

Colleen seemed irritated. "Don't swat at Danny, Mr. Castle." Her fist began to emanate a pale light. "You might not like what you get." Frank put his hands up. "The point is, we're here to help. It's our job to clean up New York as best we can. And we'll do it with or without you, so it's better if we just team up and do this together. Besides, I bet you're not used to our brand of, how should I put it, special abilities."

"You would be correct, ma'am, I'm sure I am not," Frank said bluntly.

"There's something I don't understand though." Jessica had been pondering her small bottle. "Why us? I mean, I met a few of you for a weekend one time, and besides Luke, I wouldn't say I really know any of you. Who's targeting us? And what do they want?"

"I don't know what you mean," Danny said, "I thought we agreed it was this Poindexter guy. Bad people do bad things to good people all the time."

Jessica let out a single, loud, "Ha!" that would have startled the other patrons. "If you think any of us count as 'good people', then you're dumber than I took you for." Danny looked quizzically at that. "But we're not talking about him, we're talking about whoever sent him after us. Yeah, he has beef with Murdock, sure, but not Luke and certainly not Frank. Someone's pulling the strings here..." She turned and looked at the diner. "And now the only people here are us..."

Matt's eyebrows twitched. "Where's our check?"

The group of seven stood up, as Danny and Frank pulled handguns and the rest just prepared their fists. Colleen's began to glow once again. Misty quietly said, "Let's fan out, cover the whole bar. Something's not right."

Luke watched as Frank immediately bounded over the counter in a single fluid motion. Luke ran off after him. Frank barreled into the kitchen, coming to an immediate stop. The waitress lay still, blood pouring out of a stab wound between her ribs. Luke could tell that she was dead now, or would be soon. Whatever she had been stabbed with was already gone, though. Then Luke heard the gunshots crashing through glass outside. He left Frank in the kitchen as he ran back into the dining room.

The rest of the group had ducked behind an upturned table for cover as Luke strode out. He hopped back over the bar, absorbing bullets with his frame. No one looked hurt, so he turned and exited the diner to see who was firing at them. A team of men in suits held guns, but at Luke's approach, they all jumped back into a black van with no license plate. As it careened away, far faster than he would ever be able to catch, he saw a small scrap of paper left on the ground. He took it back into the diner.

Frank met him at the door. "You really weren't kidding about being bulletproof, then."

"Nope. We should get back inside and discuss what just happened though."

"Yeah, you got it." Frank turned and called back to the others, "Shooting's done, you all can come back out now." The rest stood, tentatively at first, then to their full height.

Luke unfolded the note and read it aloud. "You may think that you are somehow defending this city. You are incorrect. And soon, the people of this city will know who you are, and you will no longer be able to stop me. The news tonight will reveal that Frank Castle has returned to New York. If you survive that long, the next night the news will reveal the criminal connections of Harlem's Paradise and its owner, Carl Lucas. And the following day, I will personally reveal the identity of the vigilante Daredevil to be Matthew Murdock. Leave my city before nightfall, and you will all be spared. Remain, and I will use the fullest extent of my power and influence to root you all out."

Silence hung in the air. Jessica shrugged before pulling out another bottle from her coat and drinking it straight. "Well, that's some shit."


	4. A Zealous Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the clock ticking, New York's Defenders must decide how best to combat their still-unseen assailant.

The plastic mat was hard beneath Jessica's fingers. When a break in the shooting had come, the seven had decided to make a break for Colleen's nearby apartment. Despite everything, she had been able to maintain the lowest profile, not involving herself in any newsworthy scandals. Despite all that, she didn't have much furniture, Jessica noted. They were all awkwardly huddled around in a circle, like a preschool class listening to storytime. Rand seemed comfortable, but Jessica imagined he was pretty familiar with the place.

"We gotta put Poindexter in the ground, right?" Jessica peered over to Frank Castle. He was standing against a wall, arms crossed. He cracked his neck before going on. "He's made all our lives a living hell, and we gotta put him down." Raising a hand to stop Matt, who had opened his mouth to speak. "Yeah, I've heard the speech before Red. You don't like killing people, goes against whatever you heard in Sunday School, I get it. You just sit this one out, we'll handle the rest. Right?"

"Frank, please, I'm not a child." Matt rose to his feet. "Poindexter is a deeply traumatized man, and he needs help more than he needs death." Jessica felt the air grow tense between the two. "We've had this discussion before, I'm not budging on this one, he's got to live."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with me shooting up those Yakuza thugs on that rooftop. You didn't have a problem cratering a building and killing everyone inside, at least not the way Jones tells it." Frank walked over towards Matt. "Listen, I like you a lot, Red. You did your best to help me when I was in a tough spot. Didn't really work out for me, but I still respect that. You don't want to kill Poindexter, even after all of this? I get that. So leave it to the rest of us, we'll handle it, and you can go back to beating up drug dealers in your jammies in a couple days." Frank tousled Matt's hair and walked back to the wall. "Whenever we're ready to go, I'm game."

Jessica couldn't read Matt's thoughts, but his expression said enough. "I think what Castle means, Matt, is that you seem to have the most to lose here. If Frank's presence in New York is revealed, he'll just leave again."

Misty spoke up. "Whoever wrote that letter obviously hasn't been paying attention, the police already know who Luke is. Like, he already went to jail and got out. Some lawyer named Nelson got him off no problem. And, as an attorney you of all people should know he can't be prosecuted again for the same crime."

"The point is, Matt," Danny said, "you're the only one here who's not already in the public eye for your, uh, work." He used air quotes. Jessica rolled her eyes. "You told me to step up and defend New York. I think we have enough people to do that. You don't need to do this, you've earned a break."

Matt gave a half-assed smile. "You are all so gracious. I need to think for a second." Without another word, he stalked up the stairs.

Frank sighed. "Great, we hurt his feelings. He's going to go sulk, he'll be back in a minute."

Jessica stood close to Luke. "You think he'll be alright? I mean, we've all put someone down but him, right?"

"I don't know." Luke had left his suit's jacket in the diner, and his tie was loose around his neck. She saw the barest hint of his holey yellow undershirt between the folds of his overshirt. He stroked his goatee. "Matt's Catholic. Obviously that means something to him. I'm not one to step on another man's faith. Whatever he needs to do to square himself with God, that's none of my business. I think we just need a plan of attack, we need to be quick, we need to do what we can to get out in front of this."

At that moment, Colleen looked up from the note. In their scramble to get away from the diner, most everyone had forgotten about it. "Why did he leave a note? He's a shooter, I don't think that he would leave something like that behind that could be traced to him. I mean, no offense, but he didn't strike me as all that intelligent when I read about him in the news."

"Are you suggesting he's illiterate?" Jessica said.

"Well, no, but he must be being handled." An employer had been a point of discussion before. Jessica ruminated over it.

"Well, we think his surgeries were paid for by IGH. I've had to deal with them before." Jessica turned. "Luke, he shot your bar. Whether or not you want to admit it, there's a certain criminal element associated with the place. Someone hired him to shoot out their competition..." Luke looked stern, but shrugged in quiet acceptance. "Frank, he shot you. If he is being paid, that was just a botched hit. Someone must have it out for you as well." Frank looked unsurprised. "The only people left relatively unscathed are Colleen, Danny, and Misty. Unless this person just didn't get to you yet. That being said, who could have personal issue with someone in the New York crime world, Frank Castle, and knows Matt Murdock is Daredevil?"

"Wilson Fisk." Matt was coming back down the stairs. "Jessica, you told me you thought it was him in my office. And you were right. He's back."

***

Matt had heard their deliberations from the top of the stairs, as he heard most things. However, what he had not been expecting to find upstairs was another man passed out on Danny and Colleen's couch. He had planned to come down much sooner than he had, but he was curious to know who the man was.

"Ugh... whazzat, who's'ere?" The man's slurred speech suggested that he fell asleep drunk. And he was probably still drunk now, Matt smelled.

"Stay calm sir, my name is Matthew Murdock, attorney at law. Who are you?" Matt couldn't see the man, but he positively stank of alcohol.

"I'm Ward Meachum," said the man. Matt remembered him as one of the CEOs of Rand Enterprises. He teetered on his feet before slumping back down. "When weird shit starts happening, Danny and Colleen always let me sleep on their couch." He closed his eyes and cradled a pillow. Matt supposed he'd come in the middle of the night, maybe after hitting a bar or two. He pulled the blanket further up his arm and turned to head back downstairs, resolute that they must put a stop to Poindexter's boss. He knew it was Fisk, it had to be.

But then his phone rang, in the familiar robotic voice that said, "Karen... Karen... Karen..." He considered not answering, but he was going to try to be more considerate.

"Hey, it's Matt."

"Oh, thank God, Foggy he's okay!" Karen sounded breathless.

From a bit further away, Matt could hear Foggy shouting, "Yes! I knew he'd be alright!"

"Karen, what's going on?"

"I should ask the same of you! Didn't you hear there was another shooting this morning? Some diner uptown-"

"Yeah, I heard about that one. I might have been involved... Just, don't worry, I'm not alone, Frank Castle is back in town, and Jessica Jones is here, and all those people from a couple years back will be here. I'm fine."

"Frank Castle?" Foggy had the phone now. "Matt, what the hell are you doing? Last time we had to deal with him, we lost our firm, you need to be careful with that guy-"

They were fighting over the phone now. "Matt, when you last saw these people, we thought you died! For six months! Come back in one piece, please-"

"And one more thing about Mr. Castle, you better tell him he's the worst witness we've ever dealt with-"

"Foggy, I hardly think that's relevant-"

"Well it's true!"

"Guys, please." Matt always hated phonecalls, he couldn't read body language or heartrates like he usually did, it was just a mess. This was somehow worse. "Karen, Foggy, I will be fine. We've got a pretty good team together, we're going to be careful, and I'm a lot more focused this time. But I need you to be safe, stay away from the office. I think that... I think that a certain Kingpin is involved here."

Karen answered. "You mean Wilson Fisk?"

"I mean, I was trying to keep things subtle in case someone was listening, but yes. Just, get someplace safe. Maybe go out of town for a few days. Just, whatever you do, please, please be safe." Matt waited with bated breath.

"Foggy, did I ever tell you where I grew up?"

"No, I don't think you did."

"Pack a bag, we're going for a ride. Hey, Matt?"

"Yes, Karen?"

"We'll be out of town a few days. I figure the news will tell us when to come back. Just... don't die this time, please. We'll miss you."

"I won't be dead this time. I miss you already, keep safe."

"Matt!" Foggy yelled. "We love you, man. Just... don't do anything stupid."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Foggy." Matt chuckled dryly. He hated to send them away, but he couldn't have Fisk targeting them, he'd already threatened them before.

With that taken care of, Matt braced himself for the tongue-lashing he would surely receive after heading back down the stairs. He wouldn't be able to kill Fisk or Poindexter, he already knew that. He really wanted Poindexter in an institution. But, whatever it took to keep New York safe, he'd deal with it later.

He heard Jessica outlining the grudge matches Fisk had downstairs. With masterful timing, he strolled down the stairs and calmly said, "Wilson Fisk. Jessica, you told me you thought it was him in my office. And you were right. He's back."

He came down the stairs fully. "Luke's right, by the way, we just need to get in front of this as soon as possible. Fisk works hard, and he works fast. He must have an intermediary on the outside, pulling these strings... Whatever, the point is, we have two targets. We need to find Poindexter, and take him out, however that works. And we need to find Fisk and wring him out for information. Whoever he's operating with, we'll get it sorted. I think we should split up."

Matt sensed Jessica and Danny approaching him at the same time. "You think that's a good idea, Murdock?" Jessica's breath smelled like bourbon. It sort of always did, but now she was very close. "We get our asses kicked every time we step outside, and you want to give us less cover?"

In Matt's other ear, he heard Danny say, "Team work, man. It makes the dream work, you better have a plan that makes sense or we're all dead, Matt."

Matt stood still. A hubbub passed through the rest of the team. Finally, Luke stepped forward and clapped a hand on Matt's shoulder. "I agree with Matt. There's no way we'll catch them both in the same place. We need two teams. I'll go with Matt and Colleen. We'll figure out a way through to Fisk. He's never met me or Colleen before, so maybe that'll throw him a bit. He won't know what to expect out of us." He raised his head towards Frank. "Castle, you take Jessica, Danny, and Misty, and you do everything you can to get the drop on Poindexter. He's got good aim, but I don't think he can hit four targets at once."

Frank stood up straight. "Finally. You got it, Cage. Be gentle with Red over there, he's tough, but he's better at talking than fighting. Let's get going before-" Frank froze. That was unlike him, Matt thought. There was a figure in the door, a woman Matt hadn't seen in quite some time.

"I'm going with you." The woman stepped in, startling the room. She hadn't been in New York in months...

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but just who are you exactly?" Frank asked.

"My name is Claire Temple. I think I know everyone else here. Rest assured, tough guy, I'm not going to hurt you."

Matt felt Luke's muscles tighten. "Claire..."

"Luke, save it. I don't want to hear what you have to say about anything. But the fact is, you're all going to need me if you want to get to Fisk."

Matt straightened his glasses and tie. "It's been a while Claire. Why did you decide to come back?"

She looked at him, and he knew it was directly in the eye. "Because, Matt. I can tell you about Fisk, and his ties to IGH. He might've paid for that kid's operation, but I was actually there."


	5. Greatest Hits, Side A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With New York's heroes divided, half of their number sets out to find and stop the assassin that has been threatening the lives of so many.

The sun was beginning to set. Time was short. Danny drew the guns from their holsters at his sides, breathing deep to draw forth his chi. He stood with Frank, Jessica, and Misty, ready to enter Rand Enterprises. The four of them had discussed the plan on the way here.

"Danny, where's somewhere important to you in this city?" Jessica had said. "He's been hitting us all where we live, and he's not hit you yet. Where's somewhere important?"

Danny had gulped. "Well, my building. Rand Enterprises." He had felt his stomach churn at the thought. He'd once fought Harold Meachum at Rand Enterprises. Even though it had been his destiny then, he took no pleasure from it, and imagined he'd find no relief there today either. As Frank had trudged forward, leading their group of four, Danny steeled himself for the inevitable fight.

But Danny focused his mind on the present, where he stood before the glass doors of his building.

"Well, are we going in kid?"

"Yeah Frank, just taking a deep breath." Danny took them in. He had sent out a company-wide email, the entire building should be empty as he took his new friends on their introductory tour. The lights were out, but the setting sun cast a fine orange glow through the tall glass windows. "Well, we don't know where he would be in this building, so I guess we need to start looking."

"We're not going to split up." Danny was shocked to hear Frank say that. He seemed so aloof, like such a loner... "Don't look so shocked kid, I was a Marine. We put a high premium on keeping everyone together, and keeping everyone alive."

Danny couldn't contain his surprise.

Misty spoke up. "Alright, that's a great idea. Here's the thing though, if we bunch up, there's nothing keeping him from just lighting us all up. We need to be smart about this." She reached over the reception desk and took a sheet of paper and a pen. "Odds on, in an office space like this, he'll be in a small room with a big window, easy to keep his eyes open with a lot of range for his rifle. Ballistics isn't done examining the crime scenes yet, but they know he's using a rifle at least."

"Murdock said he likes throwing stuff." Jessica had been quiet until just now. "He said this Poindexter kid likes throwing sharp stuff. In the news, he turned the entire New York Bulletin into his personal firing range for throwing knife practice. He'll be in an office. Probably a corner office, for the most range."

"Good enough for me." Frank hit the call button on the elevator. A small, nearly silent click could be heard...

As the doors opened, a ferocious explosion rocked the lobby and sent Frank flying backwards. Over the intercom, a lone man's voice rang out clearly, "Mr. Fisk says you should take the stairs."

"Shit!" Frank stretched his shoulders, jarred by the impact. He got back up. The elevator was entirely unusable. Danny merely took a deep breath and strode towards the staircase in the corner.

"I think we'll need a little more finesse with this one, guys. Follow my lead." He flashed his most self-confident smile, which faded as he approached the stairwell. Danny readied one of his pistols. The stairwell was stark white, and seemed empty enough to him. He felt the warmth of the others at his back, and stepped inside. Frank and Misty cocked their guns. Jessica seemed to take a drink from a small bottle, grimacing as it went down.

The four of them ventured up the stairs, cautiously peering out of the exit doors at every floor. No signs of struggle or occupation... No lights on... No one, nowhere to be seen. One floor, empty...

Second floor... empty...

Jessica stifled a cough.

Third floor... ... empty again...

Fourth floor... empty... Frank tallied some numbers on his fingers quickly...

At the fifth floor, something was different. An office's lights were still on. Jessica whispered, "Let me try something." She took out her smartphone and fiddled with it for a moment, while motioning everyone to get into position around the door... She swiped up on her phone, which made a familiar swooping sound.

A brief pause.

The unmistakable sound of a receiving swish emerged from the door. Jessica's eyes widened. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and a barrage of freshly sharpened pencils followed. Two of them embedded themselves in Jessica's upper arm. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and Danny dove towards her, shielding her from further fire. He heard bullets firing and a storm of angry footsteps charging out from the office.

They had found him.

***

Frank loosed a spray of bullets into the office, screaming loudly as the lead poured from his gun. What he didn't expect was to miss. A smaller man rushed out of the way of his gun, ducking and rolling to escape his shots. He had left a nest of office supplies behind, as well as a large, military sniper rifle.

Frank turned his focus towards the man. Misty was already firing at him, but he was a slippery one. Misty and Frank ducked out of the way of a pinwheeling pair of scissors. Frank heard the sound of duct tape ripping. He had no time to react before he heard a clip unloading in their direction. He took cover inside Poindexter's old nest and lifted up the rifle. As he peered out, Danny fired two glowing shots out of his allegedly chi-powered guns. They seemed to work as advertised. The radiant bullets flew as he took cover behind an overturned desk. Frank peered out of the nest.

Benjamin Poindexter was not a large man. His frame was small. He seemed weak. However, his shots fired with tremendous accuracy. In the firefight, he had seemingly fired a bullet into the revolver in Danny’s left hand, sending shocks up through his arm and causing him to nurse his arm behind his desk. Poindexter’s eyes were… bloodshot. They were silver in color naturally, it seemed, but the bags under his eyes were heavy and dark. Frank could only presume that Fisk had kept him awake for days, or maybe even weeks. But what shocked Frank the most was how young he was. He was just some kid. Frank thought that Murdock was young, but this kid was, what, twenty? Maybe twenty-five? He looked sad. He looked scared. And he was hurting people.

Frank let out a mighty roar once again and charged him. He heard a brief pause in the gunfire as shock rolled over the rest of the occupants of the building.

Then he felt the first shot, red hot on his left shoulder.

And then the second, burning as it grazed past the right side of his neck, too close to his throat…

Before a third could fire, he spear tackled Poindexter to the ground, his slight frame nearly breaking under the force of the charge. Time seemed to stand still as Frank stared him in the eyes. An odd pattern, like a bullseye, seemed to catch the light in his right eye. It made an easy target as Frank buried his fist in his face. Poindexter recoiled, his head banging against the ground. Frank was in the heat of the moment as Poindexter let out a blood-curdling yell. Frank could barely feel when his target buried a knife deep into his abdomen.

***

Jessica was unarmed and alone. When the rest of her cohort had charged into the office, marked by her phone’s ringing. She sat alone, reflecting on the events of the last few months. As the new super team had planned, she didn’t exactly want Fisk and Poindexter dead, but she didn’t exactly see any other way…

The gunfire seemed to fade into the background. A familiar, slimy voice filled her thoughts. “Jessica… Not still chasing after dear old Patsy’s shadow, are you?”

Her eyes shot open. She was alone, in the stairwell. And yet Kilgrave was there with her, as he had been for years. “I’m not afraid of you, pervert.”

The ghost of the man shook his head. “Now, now, where are those manners? You seemed so thrilled to rush into the breach and kill that boy in there. And after making such a mess of things with Patsy, tsk tsk…” He seemed happy to be there, in her head.

“That’s different, asshole. Trish wasn’t thinking about what she was doing. I’ve thought these things through, there’s nothing more we can do.”

The ghost shook his head. “You seem very sure of yourself. Turn and look at him, Jessica. He’s just a kid. And, you know, you want him dead.”

Jessica turned and peered inside the room. The firefight had turned rather dire, with Frank hiding in a closet as Danny laid on the ground, cradling his left hand. Misty was nowhere to be seen. And a small, pale, man was unloading a gun, half-wrapped in duct tape next to a kicked over table. He looked pale and sickly, and Jessica couldn’t help but wonder why this boy had given Murdock such a hard time.

Jessica turned back to her ghost. “He’s a murderer. He’s been killing people for years, and he needs to be stopped.”

“Oh he’s a murderer.” Kilgrave had a sickening smile. He sounded incredibly pleased with himself. “And all murderers deserve what they get, is that right, killer?” Jessica turned away again.

Her demons stopped.

And then she heard another voice, a woman’s voice, echoing deep inside her head. “Is that what you want for me, Jessica?”

Jessica didn’t need to turn and look to know she was still haunted by Trish. Perhaps her guilt was getting to her after all.

“You know that’s not true, Trish.” Her eyes became sad as her mind showed her Trish, unwashed, unpolished, in a blue jumpsuit. The commotion in the next room seemed to fade away as Jessica was sent deep into her mind. “I got you a good lawyer, one of the best I know. Hogarth’s… out of commission. It’s the redhead, Matt Murdock, he’s great. You’ll be out in no time at all, and then we can be back together again.”

“I don’t suppose Matt Murdock will be on that kid’s case.” Trish was pale and cold, her voice distant. “Can you justify that?” Jessica looked into the room again, and Frank was bleeding, a gunshot in his shoulder, with Poindexter pinned under him. “I need you to defend me Jessica. You were right, and I was wrong, and you need to defend him too.” Jessica saw a flash of silver as Frank got stabbed in the side by Poindexter. Jessica ran into the room, barreling over Frank and tossing him off of Poindexter. She rounded on Poindexter, punching wildly at his arms. She connected and felt a sickening crunch as she shattered his right wrist.

He yelled again and sprang to his feet, throwing his knife at Jessica. She supposed rather lucidly he was ambidextrous as it found purchase between the middle fingers of her left hand. The blood spurted out as she nursed her arm, trying to kick his knees out from under him. 

Poindexter looked around ferally, dodging Jessica’s kicks deftly. He ran out towards an office on the exterior of the building, flinging things wildly behind him, missing the rest of the team. As he went to open one of the doors, Jessica saw a glowing radiant beam fly past, melting the doorknob. Danny had risen to his feet, his left arm tucked haphazardly under his right, firing his one working gun towards Poindexter.

Poindexter dodged out of the way, flying into the office next to it. He slammed the door behind him. Jessica lunged for the door, throwing an arm in front of Frank, who had the same idea. Jessica yanked the knife loose from her hand and threw it to the ground. She launched through the door, knocking it off its hinges. Poindexter had backed against the concrete corner of the office, between two full-length windows on each wall. The pale light of dusk cast his face in heavy shadow, as his right eye began swelling from Frank’s heavy punch. His left eye still looked sharp though, glancing wildly around the room for a weapon. He stomped forward and hurled the computer monitor towards Jessica.

Jessica launched into a spinning kick, knocking aside the monitor as it flew through the air. Her arm still cradled under her armpit, she jumped and tried to land too close for him to respond. She managed to somehow kick out his right knee, knocking him to the ground.

As he fell he got a good grip on her hair though, knocking her underneath his good knee. The air escaped from her lungs involuntarily. Over the man’s shoulder, she could almost see Trish, looking down disapprovingly. Except, that’s not what Trish looked like-

A streak of red flew over the desk. Jessica felt air return to her lungs. And then she was falling. Time stood still. Misty had snuck up behind them, and she had launched herself at Poindexter, flying out the window with the both of them. The ground rushed up to meet them.

The air left Jessica’s lungs again as she landed atop the other two bodies. A heavy, loud crunch filled the air on impact. Jessica turned to look at the others. Misty had landed on her metal arm, hard. It was completely shattered, and from the fall, she surely had broken some ribs as well. Her good arm took hold of her gun and she clubbed Poindexter over the head. He was already knocked out from the impact, but Jessica could figure that she got some catharsis from that.

“I think we got him,” Misty said.

A few minutes passed. Frank and Danny joined them, nursing their own injuries. Danny said, “I think we can still interrogate him after he wakes up. We need to know what Fisk is making him do.”

Frank nodded, breathing deep. Jessica breathed in, feeling her broken ribs. They had him. They finally had him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that has stuck with me for this long! I do apologize for not really posting anything or any updates. Life has been busy as I've been preparing for school to start back up. I hope that my update schedule will be a bit less infrequent as school begins. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you all keep sticking around for Side B.


	6. Greatest Hits, Side B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With half the team chasing after Poindexter, the rest seek out what information they can on Fisk's grand plan. But will they find anything, and if they do, what will it mean?

Luke hated prisons. As soon as he knew that he'd have to go back into one today, he couldn't seem to stop clenching his teeth. But, he supposed, Matt knew what he was doing. And it wasn't like they hadn't fought their way out of some tight spots before.

Complicating matters was Claire... Why now, why did she need to reappear in his life today? She still wasn't looking at him, not after how things had ended up last time.

"Hey Luke, you doing okay back there?" Colleen had borrowed Misty's car for this particular adventure. Certainly a squad car would provide a bit of cover for their little operation. Luke just hated being stuck in the back with Matt, he didn't make for very pleasant conversation. He was grinding his teeth together, what looked like an old habit.

"Everything's fine, Colleen. I just can't believe that you're the only one of us with a valid license. We're looking pretty foolish right now," Luke said.

Matt didn't turn to face him, but spoke anyway. Luke understood, being blind and all, but it was always so sudden. "I'm a blind man, you're using a fake name, and Claire's not a resident of New York anymore. It's perfectly believable. Besides," he smirked to himself, "Chinatown's a little bit bigger than Harlem, and my schtick only works if I'm running around on rooftops. Makes sense to me that she'd need a lift from place to place. What I don't get is how we're going to sneak a katana into a federal prison without setting off every alarm in the place."

"Matt's right." Claire talked for the first time since they sat in the car. Luke was shocked. She never admitted Matt was right, things must be serious. "It won't matter what our cover story is if we can't get in the door. What is our story anyways?"

"About that..." Matt started. "I can usually just say I'm someone's attorney and they let me in, but that won't work for four. Also, I've not exactly done this in a while, not since the last time Fisk was out of prison."

A sobering second passed through the car. "Okay, so we're not lawyers," Colleen said. "We're in a cop car, why can't we be cops?"

"Maybe with some props? I was in the Marines for a while, it can't be that hard to fake being a cop." Luke thought for a second about how infeasible that would be, but his thoughts were cut short.

"Yeah, that won't work Luke." Claire was very quick to call him out today. "Even setting aside that this is a maximum-security federal prison, you're kind of famous around here. We're not going to be able to 'sneak' you anywhere."

Luke scratched his chin. The ruined remains of his suit hung in tatters, leaving a mostly-ruined overshirt over his bullet-riddled yellow undershirt. His suit pants were bloody and stained from the fights over the last several days. "What if we didn't need to sneak in. What if we just walked in?"

"Okay, you lost me." Colleen made a turn, looking above the car as often as she could. A car backfired somewhere in the distance, and she jerked the wheel to the left before realizing that they weren't being shot at. "Um, sorry about that." Matt was clinging to the walls of the car, swiveling his head from side to side. "Sorry, Matt. But more to your point Luke, there's no way they're going to just let the four of us in. You have some kind of plan?"

"Yeah, I think I do." Luke pulled off his tattered gold overshirt, revealing the bright yellow shirt beneath. "But you guys need to trust me. Matt, we all need a lawyer today..."

"Do we now?" Matt asked. "What's your case, they'll see through it unless its good."

Luke furrowed his brow. "Do you all trust me, because this needs to be absolutely convincing."

"Yeah, of course, man." Matt was on board.

"I mean, we haven't exactly hung out, but Danny likes you. You haven't done anything to make me not trust you, I guess?" Colleen seemed okay with this. Luke turned his eyes to Claire. She looked beautiful in the light of the sun, just beginning to set. The shadows of the nearby skyscrapers passed over her face as she thought long and hard about her decision.

"I'll trust you on this one." Relief washed over Luke. He could barely believe what he had heard.

"Thank you Claire, I can't tell you how much this means to me." Luke turned his gaze towards Claire, still facing forward in the front seat. She turned to look at him, stony-faced.

"Don't expect it to last, Luke." She was clearly still hurt by how he had acted nearly two years prior... He tried to convey how sorry he was through his expression, but that was clearly not enough. "After today, after we fix this, we're still over, Luke."

Matt seemed to look at each of them. "I'm sorry, are we missing something? It feels like something happened and Colleen and I are just kind of... here. Don't want things to be awkward and all that." He was running his thumb over the folded edge of his stick, not that he actually needed it.

A silence fell over the rest of the car. Luke looked to Claire, not wanting to speak for her. She stared straight ahead, seemingly lost in her own head. "Luke and I dated for a short while." Her words dripped with venom. "It ended badly." Luke felt that she was sugarcoating things a little bit for Matt and Colleen, but he appreciated her discretion.

Matt responded with a simple, "Ah." A beat passed. "Um, so Luke, what's this plan of yours again?"

"It's simple, man. Claire is my sister, and we're here to see our dad."

Matt's brow furrowed a bit deeper. "You know visitation hours are over, right?"

"Yeah, and where do I fit into this?" Colleen asked. "I'm not sure if you noticed this, but we don't exactly look the same, and I feel like you and Claire would be pushing it anyways..."

"Not to mention the fact that we're in a 'borrowed' police car, Luke." Claire's words hurt, for sure, but Luke supposed that was what planning was for.

Matt rubbed his temple for a moment before saying, "It's not nothing though, we can work with it. So, you claim you need a lawyer for this to work, right? Well, you don't need a lawyer unless there's a lawsuit, that your hypothetical father is involved in."

Luke nodded. "That works. I mean, you're the lawyer, what's something that could trouble two kids, their dad, and Colleen all at once?"

"And involves a police car and a katana, while you're at it, lawyer boy." Colleen's tone did not sound enthusiastic.

"Gimme a minute..." Matt sat and thought for a few moments. Luke supposed he couldn't see, but the prison was within eyeshot now, time was running low. "Well, I can't account for the katana, but the metal detectors would find it anyways. But I think I have an idea. Claire and Luke are siblings. They need to reconcile with their estranged father, before he passes. Claire, you have drafted a will that you need him to sign." Matt paused for a breath. "Colleen, you're going to have to trust them a little bit. Luke, Claire, one of you has been disowned by the old will because you married Colleen, who has been brought along as a show of sincerity to your old man. The other of you is just here for moral support. If he doesn't sign the will, his old wishes will be carried out and no inheritance will go who whomever has married Colleen, who is a low-ranking police officer. Oh, and we should probably use fake names, just to be safe. Does that about cover it?"

A pause settled over the car. Matt had explained himself rather well, all things being equal. General nods and grunts of approval came from the others.

"I'm fine with this," said Claire, "as long as I get to marry Colleen."

***

Matt heard the window roll down. They had made it. He knew that Fisk was within, and whatever was in store for them, they would need to face it, head on. With the last of their preparations in place, they readied themselves for a cunning deception. Matt knew it could only take them so far, but he hoped it would be enough.

The guard dryly intoned, "Ah, Miss Wing. I see you've brought Miss Temple and Misters Cage and Murdock with you. How considerate of you to be all in one place. Mister Fisk regrets that you couldn't bring the others with you, but some things can't be avoided. Please, drive on in, we're happy to see you."

Matt's heart sank like a stone. Sure, their plan was slapdash at best, but they didn't even get in the door...

"Matt, I have a bad feeling about this." Matt sensed the heat of Luke's gaze on him. “You’ve tangled with Fisk more than we have,” he whispered, “should we just turn around?

Matt sat in quiet contemplation. He remembered his vow to Fisk, that if he started any trouble again, he’d be there to stop him. And yet, he remembered Agent Nadeem, and the destroyed psyche of Ben Poindexter, the near-death of Frank Castle in prison, the severe trauma that he, Foggy, and Karen had undergone at his hands, the traumatic events of the last few days. “No. We need to see this through. Let’s get going.”

Colleen gave a brief nod, and drove through the gate. Despite Fisk’s seeming control over the prison, police cars and standard patrols still covered the grounds. Matt felt that things were weirder than they seemed. The police guards waved them forward. As they exited the car, a guard motioned to Colleen’s katana, and motioned for her to take it with her. Matt felt her heart race as he removed it from the car.

The four of them walked deep into the labyrinthine tunnels, right, then left, then left again, onward and onward they walked. Matt supposed they walked in complete silence, but he heard every heartbeat. Strangely, the cops seemed more tense than the rest of them, their sweat smelled stronger, their hearts beat even quicker. Luke, in the front, seemed calm and reassured, his heart beating slowly, but heavily. Matt knew about his history with prisons, and Foggy had seemed so happy to get to defend a “real-live superhero, Matt, when else will I get the chance?” Matt couldn’t help but twitch a slight smile at that memory. He missed Foggy, he would’ve made today easier…

Colleen walked behind Luke, confident and defiant as always. With her sword out and already beginning to emit a dull white glow, she was ready for a fight. Sticking close to her was Claire. Matt had missed her in the years she’d been away. Her presence was always so calm, so soothing, it reminded him of his time with the nuns. And now, her energy was aggressive, almost vindictive. Matt didn’t know what had happened with her and Luke, but if it was bad enough to send her away from New York, something must have been weighing extremely heavily on her conscience to bring her back. Then again, if she knew she was walking into a fight, Matt was scared of what she had planned to do.

Matt brought up the rear, keeping his ears open for any signs of ambush. He dared to speak, after walking for what felt like hours and hours in circles. “I see things are no different than the last time Fisk was in prison.”

The line came to an abrupt halt, Luke bumping into the man in front. “Hey man, I thought we were moving-“

The guard struck out at Luke before clutching his hand, several bones in his hand having broken on impact. The guard behind Matt made a move, and attempted to sweep his leg with his billy club. Matt jumped up and over, spinning to knock the guard’s head into the cold brick wall. With a final punch to the head from Luke, the other guard was knocked out. “That could have gone better,” Claire commented.

“Optimistic as always, Claire.” Matt lightly tapped her shoulder to let him through. “We need to find Fisk. He’ll be in the middle of the jail, probably. Even if he is supposed to be a prisoner, he’s the one running this place. We just need to get some information from him, and we can deal with his plan next.”

“Easier said than done, Matt.” Colleen’s sword had stopped glowing. “Do we even know which way we’re headed, I got lost ten minutes ago.”

“That’s his plan, he always has a plan.” Matt closed his eyes, focusing on his hearing. “And for some reason, his plan always ends up with us in some corridor fighting dozens and dozens of tough guys in suits. I’d prefer to skip that part today, I don’t have my suit on, and they always have guns.” He knelt, touching the ground, consulting his memory of their turns. “And I’m hearing movement, faint and distant, off on our left. We should probably go that way.”

They resumed their slow march, now on guard against ambush from outside. They had been snaking their way through the entire facility, it seemed. Within moments, they found themselves within the cafeteria.

Fisk stood before them, flanked by prisoners and prison guards. Matt heard the accelerated heartbeats of the rest of his party, and the even faster heartbeats of their incoming enemies. And then Fisk spoke, in the heavy, plodding timber of a man convinced of his own rightness. “Mister Murdock! It has been some time since last we saw one another. Although, I do suppose that you haven’t ever ‘seen’ me, so to speak. And you brought your little friends as well. Mister Lucas, Miss Wing, Miss Temple. I do not believe that I have had the pleasure to meet any of you. I am sure that Mister Murdock has said much about me. I assure you, none of what he has said was true.”

“Shut up, Wilson.” Matt was surprised that Colleen had begun to speak, she had largely been quiet the whole time in the prison. “You’re just another fat man in a suit, telling everyone else to do his dirty work for him. We will be more than happy to wipe that stupid grin off your dumb, doughy face.” Matt heard the low hum of her blade as it began to charge up. “And it was so dumb of you to tell me to bring this.”

Matt heard a rustle of fabric. Fisk seemed to be feeling his jaw with his hand, perhaps he was offended. “Miss Wing, I was prepared to offer you, Mister Lucas, and Miss Temple some clemency. After all, you are hardly to blame for the sins of the company you keep. However, now I feel that you have forfeit that opportunity.”

As Fisk began to turn away, Luke called out, “If you’re so strong, why are you running? It’s typical that you’re ready to send others to fight and die for you. You have no respect, and less spine. What’s worse, now you’re mocking me, and the pain I’ve been through. If you had to go through what I went through, you wouldn’t have lasted-“

“Oh, spare me your sanctimonious diatribe!” Fisk seemed truly upset this time, turning back around. “Is this what you do? Just talk until the fighting stops? Please, give me a break. Watch tonight’s evening news, if you survive that long, and you will know that nothing will be able to stop me. I’m not after your lives. I’m only after his.” He pointed an accusing finger at Matt.

“You’re more than welcome to try.” Matt loosened his tie and prepared to fight.

In the heat of the moment, Matt hadn’t noticed, until he heard a choking noise. He twitched his head left. Claire had begun to cry. “Why? Why did you do that to that poor boy?” She was shaking, her fists clenched at her side.

Fisk made a note of surprise. “To be true, Miss Temple, I have no idea why you are here. I did not believe you had any reason to be here this evening. Who are you talking about?”

“The kid, Poindexter. I saw what you did to him. What the hell have you been doing? How many others have you been experimenting with?” Claire was still crying.

“Ah, him. I had no idea you two had met either.” Fisk seemed to shrug. “He was the only one to undergo that procedure. Well, the only one to survive, at least. There have been others. You’d be surprised how particular that treatment was, far hardier men than he had tried and failed.” Fisk turned his back once more. “I tire of this. As I have stated, I do not care for your lives.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Matt. “Men! Kill Murdock, or I will make sure no one ever finds your bodies.” He sunk away, into the darkness.

Matt took a deep breath, closing his eyes once more. Large, burly men poured into the room, leaping over tables and tossing aside chairs to get to them. It was always going to end in a fight, but why was it always this kind of fight? Matt clenched his jaw in anticipation for a blow that never came.

As the men charged, clad in black and orange, Luke leapt into the fray with a tenacity that astounded the others. As the men’s hands began to crack and break against his invincible skin, he yelled to Matt, “I’m never setting foot in another prison, so help me God, Matt!” He hefted a half-dozen men back into the crowd. “Back into the hallway guys!”

He shepherded them back into the hall. The men ran in after them, confined by the space to a nearly single-file line, charging after Matt. Collen shoved him back, rushing forward with her sword blazing bright. He felt the energy in the air as she ran. “You won’t be getting to him, just freaking give up already!” She swung her sword in wide arcs, causing several men to flinch and back away.

One man, a guard, ran in swinging his gun before him wildly. He ran directly into Colleen’s swing and got blasted back through the crowd with the force of a freight train. Luke cheered, but grabbed Colleen around the waist to continue their escape.

Matt and Claire, guarded by their impregnable allies, stood back and caught their breath. “Claire, why did it matter so much to you what happened to Poindexter?”

“I told you Matt, I was there when it happened. I saw the shit they poured into his veins, into his bones.” She was still crying. “I won’t be able to forgive myself until Fisk is gone. I just can’t, and I know you understand that.” Matt felt in his chest, she was right. “But right now we need to escape the big men with guns, and we’ll talk about it after we recoup tonight.”

“Right, big men, guns…” Matt’s thoughts flew a mile a minute. Why weren’t they firing? Surely some of them would ricochet back into the crowd. Surely many of them would hit Luke, effectively rendering their shots meaningless. But he was just a guy, made of flesh. He could feel all of his scars, he was many things, but bulletproof was quantifiably not one of them. Why not take the risk, if it was death by relatively quick and clean bullet versus death by slow and painful Fisk?

And then he heard it. Footsteps, quick and quiet, approaching from their escape route. “Guys, we need to get moving. Luke, you get to be in the back. I’ll get Claire out of here. You two, just, try and keep up.” And he ran, holding onto Claire’s hand like his life depended on it. They neared the exit… It was all too close now. Instinctively, he ducked.

Too late, he recognized what was happening. A woman, tall and proud looking, swung to clothesline him and Claire. With the last of his reflexes, he yanked Claire down to the ground, sliding to keep pulling her out of range of the woman’s legs. Colleen was still in Luke’s arm, swinging her glowing blade wildly. The crowd had thinned, closer to the front. As the woman rounded the corner she thrust her palm into Luke’s chest.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

The woman turned, her blonde hair rippling like a sheet behind her. Her jumpsuit was blue, but her makeup was still immaculate. Matt looked up, futilely, into the face of a woman he had never met. Claire was shocked, tripped onto the floor, still clutching his hand. She looked and saw the woman and Matt could feel her begin to shake.

“Trish? What happened to you?”

Trish Walker swung her other hand at Luke, knocking him and Colleen backwards into the melee. Matt picked himself up and threw the fastest punch he could, straight at her face. She dodged, faster than he could react. She wasn’t talking…

Colleen rose to her feet and charged at her, swinging her katana in a horizontal sweep, but Trish skidded backwards to avoid it. She struck out with an intensity and ferocity that Matt hadn’t experienced hand-to-hand in years, and he was not on even terms with this superhuman.

Claire stood and ran, returning to the squad car. Luke spread his arms across the hall, blocking the last few prisoners and guards as Colleen fought them off. Trish turned and glared at Matt. He gulped.

She swung wildly, with Matt narrowly avoiding the blow to the side of his head. She thrust up her knee, aiming coldly for his gut, blank expression unwavering. Matt swerved and responded with two quick thrusts to her center of mass, but he couldn’t feel any change in her demeanor. She reached and grabbed the back of his coat, tossing him headlong into the wall, but his reflexes caught him, spiraling and springing off the wall, landing a solid punch to her temple. She was not deterred.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she took a swing for his head. At that moment, Colleen’s sword briefly separated them, Matt noting the force of her enchanted swing. Her parry was remarkable, saving his brain from becoming a fine mist on the back wall.

Trish threw Matt aside and focused on Colleen, as Matt tried to pummel her along her spine, with no real noticeable change. Colleen deftly blocked and parried, but in such cramped quarters, her sword couldn’t land a solid hit in the corridor. Finally, Matt leapt behind Trish and managed to clock her over the head, but she was only delayed for an instant. She looked fuzzy, groggy, for just a moment, shaking her head.

Trish’s voice was hoarse, but she spoke. “Wait… what is this-“

Her sentence went unfinished as Luke swung his arms, clapping her on both ears. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she slunk to the floor, unconscious. “Okay, let’s go, I don’t want any more surprises,” Luke said.

“We have to take her with us, Luke!” Colleen objected. “We can deal with it later, but she needs to get out of here.”

“Colleen, we’re not having this talk right now, we’re not taking her with us.”

Matt spoke up, clutching his split and bleeding lip. “No, she’s right, Luke. She’s supposed to be floating on an island in the middle of the Atlantic, but she’s just here now? Something is very wrong.”

Luke seemed angry to have been out-voted, but contained his frustration. He hoisted her from the ground. “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

The car, still parked outside, had Claire already in the backseat. Colleen opened the trunk and Luke threw her in, unceremoniously. Matt figured with such a short drive, it wouldn’t matter. Luke jumped into the back, and Matt ran to the passenger seat. “It’s always the damn hallways…” he muttered, pondering the past several hours.

Colleen drove off into the cool night air, ready for their rendezvous with their team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm late again. About two full weeks late, with no real warning. I could make something up, but I don't have an excuse. Life is busy, and I'm in the swing of law school these days. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I'm cautiously optimistic that I'll get out another chapter this month, but I won't promise anything. I just want to let you all know how much I appreciate you for tolerating my ... lax update schedule, and being such kind readers. You guys have been a great help to me in getting this story written, and I just want to say I appreciate it. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.


	7. Companions, Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from recent battles, New York's defenders regroup, and hear some harrowing tales.

Danny did not care for the taste of liquor, but tonight felt like the best time to try again. He, the man called Frank, Officer Misty Knight, and Jessica Jones had brought the unconscious body of Benjamin Poindexter back to Alias Investigations, Jessica's office and home. Danny could tell that they were drawing some unusual glances from the other tenants, but they did not care. Frank's bloodied and battered body, in addition to his commanding glares and loud growling orders to the tenants to "Get back inside," had kept most people from questioning them. Jessica slowly unlocked her office's door, then swung the door wide open. No one was there.

"Alright, let's, I dunno, let's tie the kid to a chair or something." As she slammed down a bottle of Wild Turkey, she gestured to the rest of them, to see if anyone had wanted any. Perhaps in spite of his better judgment, Danny had agreed, as had Frank and Misty. "Huh, didn't think you could, rich kid. Whatever, not my problem." She poured out four short glasses of bourbon and drank hers all at once, starting on her second.

"I'm just happy we all made it out of there alive. We even got Poindexter, Matt said he'd never been able to pin him down before, it was Fisk that caught him, after all." Danny raised the glass to his lips. It smelled foul, but he really wasn't in the mood to care right now. It burned and stung as it went down, his eyes twitching in disgust. Yeah, no, that was a bad idea. He coughed loudly. "Jes-Jessica-" he coughed some more, this was really not a good drink, "can I have another one?" He resumed coughing.

"I think this won't agree with your chi or whatever." He could tell she was mocking him. "I got some antacids, I'll be right back." Danny slumped into a chair, next to where Frank was tying down Poindexter.

After a brief moment of silence, Frank grunted. He'd managed to tie down Poindexter's arms and legs. "You don't drink much, do you?" Frank huffed, then drank his glass all at once, as Jessica had done. "All the better. You're a good shot, kid. Where'd you learn to shoot?"

Danny winced, then cleared his throat. "It was in China, actually. I found the guns in Japan, but I learned from my predecessor, a previous Iron Fist." He waited for Frank to interrupt him, as he had come to expect over the past few days. He glanced over to Misty, fiddling with her mechanical arm while she sipped on her drink.

Frank continued to stare at Danny, which he found surprising. "What is the Iron Fist? You've never said." Danny perked up a bit.

"No one's ever asked me that before... Thank you, Frank." Danny sat up a bit straighter, as Jessica shoved a pair of antacids, scrounged from her medicine cabinet, into his hand. "Thank you, Jessica." She grunted. Danny popped in the antacids and pulled out his destroyed, antique revolver. "I got these... last year? A few months ago. Somewhere in there, at least. But before that, I don't know if you heard a news story, oh, twenty years ago, about a billionaire family who died in a plane crash? Well, I was in that family. And, suffice to say, I survived. Then, while I was in my parents' downed plane in the Himalayas, I was found by monks from a place called K'un-Lun, who, in some ways, adopted me and trained me to harness my chi, which is a real thing, by the way."

"I'm asking you an honest question, no need to get all defensive." Frank leaned on the desk in the middle of the room. "So, you didn't always have the guns, you learned chi in a monastery in China. Good stuff, good stuff. So, 'Iron Fist', what's that about?"

Danny found himself shocked that he was still interested. "Well, it's a title. I trained with the monks for about fourteen years, then they picked me to face a trial: I had to fight a dragon, and when I won, I got this tattoo," which he indicated was peeking out over his shirt, "and I gained the ability to make my fist glow, and a handful of other abilities. It made me much more powerful, in short. Then I left K'un-Lun to go fight the Hand, a group of other martial artists trained in K'un-Lun, but that's a whole other story. My Iron Fist powers were taken away by... an old friend of mine. And then we took them back, but gave them to Colleen. She's the better fit for the powers anyway... And then I traveled the world, got these guns, and learned to focus my chi through them. Just because I'm not the Iron Fist anymore doesn't mean I can't be one of a few Iron Fists." Danny reminisced slightly. He expected Frank to stay silent and keep staring at him. He seemed rather good at that.

Danny didn't miss his old powers, far from it. He had made peace with his newfound status as a common man, with no ancient destiny or prophesied foes. It gave him the space to just be Danny, a man who wants to help. It was liberating to not have the onus of the Fist lingering over him. He was thrilled that Colleen was able and willing to use the strength to save their city. But he'd be lying if he claimed that he didn't sometimes feel jealous at her success. He worried about her team, coming back here safely.

"That's quite a story." Frank put up a hand, keeping him from yelling an objection. "I believe you kid. Seriously, a few years back we were invaded by aliens from outer space, and people think that some mystical kung fu and dragons are too much? Kid. I'm sorry that no one listened to you. You're no less believable because you got your power from a dragon or from a toxic spill or from just sheer determination. You're smart, and you're a good shot. I'm glad I trusted you to watch my back." Frank reached over and gave Danny a pat on the shoulder, which he noted was the first affirmation he had received in what felt like years.

"Thank you, Frank, I don't know what to say." Danny felt unprepared.

"Then don't say nothing. No sense in making an ass of yourself after all that." Frank drank another glass of the bourbon, the bottle growing near empty.

Misty chimed up. "Yeah, since you've been gone, she's been by my side. We've taken out a lot of bad folks in this neck of the woods. You should be proud of your girl, she knows what she's doing. Her glowing sword is the real deal." She sipped on the bourbon, finished with her tinkering. Danny gestured in affirmation.

Frank grunted and turned, checking his own weapons for wear and tear. "This has been, in a word, fascinating," Jessica said. "But I think I'll put something on, it's too quiet in here. Maybe the news has some information on the others..." She swiped the remote off her desk and put on the dusty old tv in the corner. It came on with a blink and the fizzle of an old electronic that hadn't been used in some time. Silently sipping, the four watched as the news progressed through the sports, then the weather. Poindexter stirred for a moment, causing a litany of clicks as guns trained on him, but he remained tied down.

Then, something happened on the television that they did not expect. The picture blinked out. Then, when it came back on, there was a stark white wall. A corpulent man strode into frame, bald, in a white suit. "Hello, citizens of New York City. You may have heard of me in recent years. The news media will tell you that I am some crime kingpin, a villainous, murderous monster! This is untrue. The real murderer, is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, your supposed messiah, recently returned from the dead!" Wilson Fisk grabbed the camera that was seemingly resting atop a table of some sort. The camera spun around, revealing a complete bloodbath. Dozens of bodies, heavily bloodied and mangled. Compound fractures and heads twisted out of alignment revealed a gruesome scene. Danny's eyes grew wide at the horror of the scene. "And I will tell you, as I am sure many of you are aware, that I have encountered this Devil of yours, the man who pretends to be an Angel... And I know his name, and I know his face. He and his gang of thugs stormed into this supermax prison in which I find myself, and slaughtered all the hardworking American guardsmen you see before you, before making off with another, far more infamous criminal than I. Now you may be asking yourself, how do I know the man under the mask? Nearly one year ago, he showed me. Face to face." Fisk smiled a thin, demented smile.

"And his name is Matthew Murdock, Attorney at Law."

***

Matt's phone would not stop ringing in his pocket, the monotone robotic woman's voice calling out "Fog-gy... Fog-gy..." as his band approached the front of Jessica's apartment building. Luke held their catch over one shoulder like a fireman while Claire supported Colleen through the door.

"I'll answer it later..." Matt growled, mashing the power button on his cell. He navigated up the barren staircase before flanking up into the hallway where Alias Investigations stood. Again his phone rang out "Fog-gy... Fog-gy...". Matt held up his phone and turned it off, knocking on the door with his other hand.

The voice of a woman, Jessica, rang out on the other side of the door. The entire apartment stank of alcohol. "Matt, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's us. Let us in, we found something you might be interested in." He could feel Luke's broad hand tap his shoulder in affirmation.

"Yeah, uh, about that. It's best if you just come in. You like Wild Turkey?"

The door opened. Elevated heart rates, to a man. Even Frank seemed to look towards him with what seemed to be fear. "Hey, Red... You might want to take a look at this."

"Good to see you too, Frank." Matt lifted the cloth from over his eyes. It sounded like Danny's heart could burst. "Why's everyone so tense, what's up?"

Danny got to his feet and ushered Matt to a chair, pointed toward what seemed to be a television. "Um. It looks like Wilson Fisk just told New York your identity." Matt's heart sunk like a stone. He knew that a secret identity couldn't last forever, but... this was different. No doubt that was the reason for Foggy's calls...

Jessica screamed, dropping what sounded like an empty glass. It didn't shatter on the floor, but Matt heard it crack. "Luke, who the hell are you carrying?" Matt sat in quiet contemplation as Luke laid Trish Walker out on Jessica's desk.

"Well, we figured you might want to have her back. Prison wasn't exactly interested in rehabilitating her." Luke put his arms around Jessica, who stood, frozen. Jessica seemed to resist, but ultimately softened, her heart rate lowering.

Matt stood, warmly patted Danny's shoulder, and stepped toward the bedroom. "I have to take a call guys. Let's debrief after I'm done, okay?" He sniffed the air. "Looks like the bourbon's about gone, I'll take the rest of this bottle, and you just find another one. Thanks Jessica." He picked it up and drank, immediately, walking into the next room and turning his phone back on.

"Eight-teen. Missed. Calls." The phone buzzed to life once more. "Fog-gy..." Matt clicked the answer button. As soon as he did, Foggy Nelson was yelling in his ear.

"Matt, have you heard the news tonight?"

Karen could be heard yelling from over his shoulder, "Matt, we're so scared for you, are you alright? Why didn't you answer?" There was some shuffling. "Matt, you're on speaker with me and Foggy. We're at my dad's place, it's just the two of us right now. What's going on?"

Matt breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that they weren't injecting their own ill-informed opinions. "Well, I got into a fight in jail. Fisk was there. We coincidentally broke out a high-profile prisoner who seemed to be under some form of mind control. Now I'm at... another location with some friends of mine. Don't want to say where in case we're being listened in on."

"Yeah, Fisk showed us the aftermath of your little prison riot. He says you killed a lot of very dead looking people, man." Foggy sounded legitimately scared, his ragged breathing scraping against Matt's ears.

"What, no? You know I'd never just kill someone, not even Fisk." Matt felt offended. "Did he accuse me of anything else?"

"Not really, but if New York knows, then the world will know. It's only a matter of time before you're arrested, Matt." Karen's fear was much more palpable than Foggy's, he could tell.

Matt had considered that. "I know. It's a good thing I'm not home right now. No one to barge in and arrest me..." He swallowed. "Listen guys. Things have been great recently and-"

"Don't you even start with me, Murdock!" Foggy was angry now, as he typically got when these types of conversations came up. "Don't you think about doing anything stupid and heroic, you understand me? We're your family, we're going to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself, Foggy. Listen for a second will you?" Matt took a deep breath. "The way I see it, this is the last chance I have to get this right. So me and some friends are going to spend the next, oh, twelve hours before I'm put behind bars taking care of business. I promise you both, everything will be okay. I'll see both of you very soon. Foggy, I might need a pretty good defense attorney."

The phone went silent. Karen spoke up. "Foggy's punching a wall now. Out of curiosity, is Frank Castle there?"

"Yeah, he's here. You want me to put him on the line?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I was just checking." Karen paused. "I've always approved of your heroics, you know. I love you very much. Either way, we'll get you off for this. Who's this prisoner anyway?"

"Trish Walker."

"The radio host? I thought she killed somebody. And to think, we met her in that police station a few years back... She seemed so, I dunno, ordinary."

"She's anything but anymore... I should go check on her, we knocked her out pretty good."

"Okay." Karen yelled over to Foggy. "He's got to go now!"

"Alright, listen buddy, you take care of yourself. We'll be back in town in no time at all, and we'll take care of all of this, alright? We love you man." Foggy paused. "Please, just, don't do anything stupid?" he pleaded.

"Goodbye Matthew, we'll see you soon."

With a very heavy heart, Matt said, "Goodnight, guys. I'll be fine. I love you too." And he hung up the phone. He turned to re-enter the central room.

"How did that go, Matt?" Luke asked.

"Let's just get to work." Matt walked over to the unconscious body of Trish Walker. "So, Jessica. We found Trish in the jail. She wasn't responsive, and she was beating the everloving shit out of us. Meanwhile, Poindexter is barely breathing. What'd you do, drop him out a building?"

An uncomfortable pause filled the air. Frank spoke. "I mean, yeah." He had been poured another glass. He seemed unwilling to extrapolate.

Jessica turned her focus towards Luke. "Luke, you said she was fighting for Fisk? Did she give you any indication why she would do that?"

Claire, for the first time, spoke up. "I think I can help clear that up..." All eyes turned towards her. She seemed pale and clammy, shaken from the fight at the prison. "It's not a very pleasant story though."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "After... what happened with Luke, I found myself out of a job and needing one in a hurry. But, operating on Luke, a celebrity and a superhero, helped to pad my resume a little bit. I found myself targeted by a company that sought out medical professionals to do specialized work on 'enhanced individuals', as they called them." She looked up for a moment, almost in hopeful prayer. "I figured it was a shell company, some secret subsidiary of Stark Industries down the road, or even one of Danny's businesses. Who knows, maybe that secret government group SHIELD from a few years back would pop up again. I was excited. And I was duped.

"When I found out who really ran the group, it was too late. Needless to say, it was Wilson Fisk, from the top down. The man has his grubby little fingers in everything," she said with a sneer. "He didn't seem to recognize me during my interview though, so I figured it couldn't be all that bad. That is, until I saw what he was working on."

She turned to face Matt. Her hazy red aura grew warmer around the eyes, and he knew that she was crying. "After your fight with Fisk and Poindexter, his goons picked him up. They took him to some black site upstate where they had me and a few others working on people. I was in charge of correcting his spine with strange, probably illegal surgeries. I'll admit it was interesting to do some lab work for a change. It beat another night shift at the hospital..." She let out a wet chuckle. "But it wasn't worth it. Poindexter's spine is perfect now, lots of work went into it... And sitting on top, a microchip, like you'd put in a dog. It's derived from some strange paralysis machine from Stark Industries, a decade ago when they still made weapons of mass destruction. It generates sounds that force whoever's got one to do one of a few things. It didn't take long for me to figure out that enslaved super soldiers were the project I was working on."

She sniffled as Luke went to approach her. Frank and Danny sat quietly. When Claire pulled away from Luke, he returned to leaning on Jessica's desk alongside her. Claire went to stand with Colleen and Misty, and the two women held the third for a few moments as she regained some composure.

Matt reeled in his mind, sitting to take a sip of the bourbon. This was far from what he expected. Fisk had crossed a line, forcing his will on others. He had always been a master manipulator, but he had sunk to a new low. Now instead of merely commanding or coercing people, he had a direct link into their brains. This was cruel, and it was wrong.

Claire took another deep breath. "If we don't get it out of him quick, he'll be right back to trying to kill all of us when he wakes up. Same goes for Ms. Walker. We need to act fast. Who can help me with this stuff?" No hands went up. Claire huffed. "No one can like, stabilize bodies or see through skin or anything?"

Colleen stepped forward. "I can probably do something with their chi, help keep them from bleeding out as we carve into them." She gave a furtive smile to Danny, who smiled back.

Claire smiled weakly. "Thanks, Colleen. Jessica, do you have a stove where we can boil some rags or something? Or some rags that could be boiled?"

Matt stood and walked over to her and Luke. "We're on it. Should be easy enough." Luke lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Matt was blind, but he could tell that Jessica was rolling her eyes.

Claire looked around the room. "Now I just need something to disinfect with..."

All eyes swiveled to the half-full bottle on the desk.

***

Jessica didn't have the stomach for surgery. As the two unconscious people were propped up for fixing in her office, she stepped outside to think.

Fisk was a nasty fellow. She had known that for some time, however. His brief dominion over Hell's Kitchen had made the neighborhood a war zone. It got bad enough that Murdock came back from the dead, just to fight it.

But this was different. He no longer seemed happy with mere power, now he needed something far more perverse: control. Jessica had known too many men with that lust for control... Though she did not wish to think about them. All the science experiment talk was plenty grisly already, now the thought of the person she loved most in the world going under the knife to undo some other sick man's mind control was... too much for her at the moment. She left the booze inside, which she now felt was a mistake.

And yet her mind continued to wander, a dangerous thing, really. She couldn't help but wonder if these experiments were similar to what that man- "No," she said aloud. "I'm not doing this today."

"Not doing 'what' today, Jessica?" The too-familiar serpentine voice rang hollow in her ears.

"This. Get out of my head. You don't get any other warning." Jessica stalked up the length of the hallway, the thudding of her boots probably waking her neighbors.

She could see the man, his ridiculous purple coat and pants, standing outside her door. "Or... what? You can't kill me again, Jessica." She could see his sick smile. "Or do you think killing that Fisk boy will resolve all of your traumas? Perhaps this shell company of his is to blame for me? And if I'm to blame for you, then you must owe the two of us a great debt." He slithered towards her.

She sighed. This again. It had grown rather old, after all these years, still stuck talking to the same invisible man. "We're not talking. You're done, you're just a figment of my twisted imagination that likes to doubt myself."

"Funny, that." She could practically feel his pale, cold hands on her body again, nudging her towards the elevator. "You seem to doubt yourself quite a bit. It would be easy to, say, board a train? Keep your problems far, far away?"

She stopped pacing the floor. "No. I have to see this through. Too many people have been hurt by people like you. I'm not doing this again."

"And why do you have to see this through? Why is it your job, you're just a detective."

Her door opened. The skinny kid poked his head out, Danny, his name was. "Hey, Jessica, I think Trish is waking up. It wasn't even that bad."

Murdock stepped out. "I didn't have to see any of it, but I'm sure she looks just fine." He smiled that dumb, cocky smile of his.

Luke pulled both of them in. "We'll see you in a minute, Jessica. Take all the time you need." He smiled and nodded. She found herself nodding back, somewhat at ease.

She turned to face the elevator, Kilgrave's hand over the call button. "Just say the word, and we can get you out of here, like you were never here to begin with."

Jessica turned her back to him. "No. I think I'd like to stay. I think I've found the people who actually trust me." And she strode through the door, away from the faded, empty, distant memory of Kilgrave. She thought, maybe, that would be the last word she needed.

Her office looked like a crime scene. In a sense, it was. No doubt the surgery was illegal, and there were kidnappings and evasion of the police to think about. But they had escaped enough scrapes to be okay, she thought. This would, hopefully, finally, be the fight to end these troubled years that had been plaguing all of them.

The young man was leaned forward on a chair, a bloody, now sutured wound on the back of his neck exposed. Claire was fiddling with gauze for Trish, laying prone on Jessica's desk. She was beginning to stir, so time seemed to be of the essence. Two small chips were laid out next to Jessica's laptop, placed on a nearby shelf. They were no larger than maybe the tip of her pinkie finger. And yet they had caused so much trouble and so much pain and suffering.

"So we're breaking those, right?"

Luke turned to look at her. "Yeah, we just wanted everyone to be here for it. You doing okay?"

Jessica looked over them, these strange, disparate people in her office. "I think I am." She smiled a little. Luke smiled back. "Alright, let's smash these shits." She strode over to the chips. "Shall I?" When she heard no objections, she stamped on each of them, grinding the heel of her boot into the ground.

She heard Claire speaking behind her, softly. "Shhhhh... It's okay, it's okay. You're safe here..."

The thin, raspy voice of Trish Walker answered her. "Where am I? I need a cup of water... Jess? Is that you? It has been... so long..."

"Trish, I'm here." Jessica quickly scooted towards her, batting aside Frank and Danny from their chairs. They still seemed to be chatting about their very much live firearms, near to the Poindexter kid. "I'm here. Are you okay? Hey, Luke, get some water, the tap's fine."

"Jess, you know the tap here sucks..." Trish's lips, cracked for the first time Jessica had ever seen, opened in a smile. She looked so pale... "Ugh, what day is it?"

"That's not important right now. What matters is you're back. And I had the help of the weirdos from a couple years back, so you can thank all of them too."

"Oh god..." Trish looked around. "Uh, thanks, everyone. Jessica, can we talk alone?"

"Yeah of course." Jessica lifted her up and carried her off towards the bedroom. "I'm here, you're safe now..." She kicked the door closed behind them, barely aware that most of the eyes were on the two of them.

Laying Trish down on the bed, Jessica made sure to prop up her head with as many pillows as she could. "Are you comfortable? Is there anything I can do?"

"Where have you been all my life? You're acting so much... kinder than the last time we talked." Trish's usual sarcasm was a comfort.

"Trish, what's the last thing you remember? You've been gone for a few months now..."

"Well," Trish began, "I got hauled off in the back of a police car. I saw a judge for a minute, but I mostly tuned him out. Something about being sent to an off-shore prison? Then I was put in this awful blue jumpsuit..." She looked down. "It looks like I'm still wearing that jumpsuit. Then... nothing. I woke up on your desk a few minutes ago. A few months, you say?"

Jessica explained what she had heard from Claire, and from Matt and Luke. Trish took it in quietly, nodding as she went. She sipped some of the poor New York tap water, reluctantly. When Jessica got to the present, Trish reached back and felt the bandaging on her neck, covering her two thin wounds, for the installation and removal of her chip.

"Well, you've certainly been busy..." Trish's eyes seemed to glaze over. "I'm probably still going back to that place, the Raft, you called it. So, thanks, but I don't know if I'm worth all this to you." She coughed. "In the meantime, I'm definitely not getting my apartment back..."

Jessica reached out and held her hand. "Trish, you know you can always stay here. And I found you a lawyer, we're keeping you in New York, I promise." Trish pulled away.

"It's not the blind guy, is it? He bombed the Castle case, it was a huge scandal. And I thought he was dead anyway." Jessica's spirit flattened.

"Well, he's alive again, for the moment at least. Well, he actually might be needing a lawyer too... His partner, uh, Nathanson or something is pretty good."

"I thought he was with Jeri now? I've obviously been busy for a while..." Trish touched her head. "I think I'm done with dubious men and strange drugs, Jess." She gave a weak, thin smile again.

"Either way. We're going to take care of you." Jessica smiled. "I think we're going to fight Fisk in the morning, in his private prison."

"Oh, so soon?" Trish laid back down in Jessica's bed. The clock read 2:47 AM. It would be an early night for Jessica, if they were going in the morning.

"I'd best go talk over our strategy with the others. We'll get it figured out, at least. You just rest here, I'll be back when we're done."

Jessica went to the door. "Hey Jess?" Jessica turned to look.

"Yes, Trish?"

"Kick some ass for me." Trish gave her a wink.

An hour passed of intense debate, and uncomfortable conversation. About halfway through, Poindexter awoke, prompting some new intensity. He seemed to calm down after talking to Murdock for a few minutes, who emerged from the kitchen with Poindexter in tow, having promised to defend him as well. Then, the discussion turned. If Murdock could defend Poindexter and Trish, then he and his partner Foggy might be able to bundle this all into a class action suit. That changed things. They didn't need to kill all the mind-controlled soldiers, they just needed to keep them busy until they could get their chips removed or busted. Then, there was just Fisk...

"Alright everybody, do we have a plan?" Luke asked.

"I don't love all of it, but I think it'll work," Frank said. "Red, what are your thoughts? I know you give a shit about this stuff."

Matt was silent for a long moment. "I don't love all of it either Frank. But I'll do my best."

Colleen asked, "So we're agreed then, we're doing this in the morning?"

"As soon as visitor's hours start," Misty said. "I want you all to know how much I hate everything about this."

Danny interjected, "I'm excited to wipe this out. I wish I could have my other gun, but... These things happen. And Rand will cover as much of whatever legal fees we're going to need after all this is over."

Jessica took a long drink of water. "You better have deep pockets, Rand. We're going to need them." She walked back towards her bedroom. "We'd better get some sleep. Everyone, just, get comfortable. There's some throw blankets in the closet. Any funny business, I'm kicking you out. Claire, Poindexter, you guys stay here. We'll take care of the rest." Sounds of affirmation filled the air. "Well, night guys. We're moving out early."

The rest of the group shuffled around, looking for a place to rest. Frank found a corner first, sitting with his back to the wall. Jessica found herself smiling in spite of herself. She couldn't believe that Trish had been brought home...

"Hey Jess. You need some sleep, get over here." Trish was already under the covers in one of Jessica's old t-shirts. Her voice betrayed that she had been in and out of sleep for the past hour.

"Of course. Let me just get a little more comfortable, and I'll be right there."

It was going to be a long day tomorrow, Jessica thought. She hoped that she could get some rest tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, yeah. It's been a minute. But the, uh, international climate has spurred me on towards finishing this. I'm close, now. I've set myself a number of chapters for this story to have, when all is said and done. Thanks for your patience. I've started another fic as well, which has helped me to focus on this one, as counterintuitive as that sounds. But this time, I think I'll actually wrap this one up. I meant for it to be done last year, but... here we are. Thank you, all of you, for following this story.


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